


Higher.  Further.  Faster.

by the_captain_of_the_ship



Category: Captain Marvel - Fandom, YonVers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Carol is a pilot, Carol wants Yon, Dark and then warm and fuzzy?, Dirty Talk, F/M, How is this happening?, Mutual Lust, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Ohhh these two!, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, Plot With Porn, Sex, So random and yet, Yon is a psychiatrist, Yon might be a bit obsessed with Carol, headed straight to DubConVille, kidnapped but who cares?, when did this get so dark?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2019-11-24 04:22:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 44,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18161423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_captain_of_the_ship/pseuds/the_captain_of_the_ship
Summary: THANKS EVERYONE FOR READING AND COMMENTING!It's time to edit the tags.  :)Carol Danvers is a Navy pilot.  Maria Rambeau is her wing man.  (In more ways than one.)After an unexpected dog fight over the Mediterranean, Carol and Maria are sent to San Deigo to debrief.  That's where she meets the interesting and sexy Dr. David Yon.*** This is the Top Gun / Captain Marvel cross over NO ONE asked for (except me)!  ***





	1. Higher Further Faster Baby!

**Author's Note:**

> I will go down with this ship. I won't put my hands up in surrender.  
> There will be no white flag above my door.

I feel someone nudge my shoulder.  I’m always on the defensive when I’m on the flight deck of a carrier.  Most of the men here know not to fuck with me, they know I’ll fuck them up without a second thought.  But some of the newer guys haven’t met me yet, so I jump back and prepare for a fight. 

“Hey,” I hear, and I feel a little relief when I see it’s my best friend and wingman.  “Where is your head?” Maria asks.  She must know somehow that I’m feeling a little antsy about this mission.  We couldn’t even tell our families where we were deploying, and we’ve only been allowed to contact the outside world through secure portals.  Not that I have to worry about that, because I’m looking at the only family that matters to me.

I don’t even know where I am, to be honest.  I step onto a Navy ship and they tell me where to fly, and I like it that way.  I think we’re somewhere in the Mediterranean, because of the color of the sea around us, but there usually isn’t this much secrecy in this part of the world.  To me though, it’s just another Tuesday.

“In the clouds, where’s yours?” I ask her.  I don’t care a whole lot about what’s on the ground, the politics and all that horseshit.  I just want to fly, and joining the Navy was the cheapest way to learn.  I’ll be able to get just about any pilot’s job when I retire, with a pension and benefits.  And that’ll be when I’m forty.  So that’s what I do.  I fly planes and don’t ask questions. 

“My head’s on my shoulders, ‘bout to show these boys how we do it.  You ready?”  Maria is all about the gender equality stuff.  We’re the first pair of female combat pilots stationed on a carrier, so I think we’re opening the doors for the next the next generation. 

I just want to be seen just like any other pilot.  I don’t want to be treated different because I’m a woman.  Maria never lets the boys forget that she’s a woman who had a baby less than a year ago, and she’s one of the most elite pilots in the entire armed forces.  But we’re both fighting for the same thing.  Hopefully Maria’s baby daughter Monica won’t have to worry about all of this bullshit, I hope. 

“Higher, further, faster baby,” I say as we bump knuckles.  My attention is still on the planes.  Mine and Maria’s have been prepped for takeoff by the rainbow sideboys, the crew that do all the hard work to get our planes in the air.  I’m ready to fly. 

My eye catches my plane that is painted with my name and call sign.  Carol “Avenger” Danvers. 

As usual I look toward Maria’s.  A brown-shirted PO is jumping down from the wing.  He doesn’t look familiar.  I’m about to ask Maria if she knows him, when someone calls out to me. 

“Wonderful view, isn’t it?”  I know the voice well, so I smile when I turn toward it.  I salute Captain Wendy Lawson, and she salutes back, before nodding.  “At ease, Lieutenant.”  This ship is literally shattering the glass ceiling.

“I prefer the view from up there, Captain.”  I answer her with a grin.

“You’ll get there soon enough, Ace.  We’re doing a simple recon mission.  Fly east toward the coast.  Let us know if you see anything.”  She’s smiling at me, but I feel like something is off.  I’ve felt that way since I stepped on the ship. 

“Yes ma’am,” I tell her, with a firm nod.  That’s easy enough.  Fly east. 

“Are you ready, Lieutenant Rambeau?” Lawson asks. 

“I just had a baby, ma’am.  I’m perfectly fine to fly.”  This will be Maria’s first real mission after having Monica.  Lawson pushed to get Maria back up in the air because Maria wanted it.  I think Lawson would have preferred it if Maria had taken off a little longer.  We’ll all be on pins and needles until she gets back in the air. 

“I know you’ll make us all proud,” Lawson says.

Just then a WO calls out to her, and her attention is drawn elsewhere.  I watch as she walks away from planes, toward the main part of the ship.  We’re just about ready to take off, so that’s not surprising.  What looks like chaos is actually a precisely coordinated preparation.  Everyone has a job to do. 

I’m walking toward the unfamiliar brown-shirt approaching my plane when Maria grabs me.  “See ya on the ground,” she says.  It’s what we always say to each other.  It’s part of our ritual. 

I laugh and shake my head.  “Yea.  See ya on the ground.”  This is crazy.  Why am I weirded out by a new guy?  He steps away as I approach, but holds the ladder for me.  I stare at him, maybe a bit too closely.  He looks away. 

“Higher, further, faster,” Maria yells at me.  I turn toward her with a smile on my face.  I watch her climb up the ladder.  I ascend to my cockpit, trying to shake off the feeling that something isn’t right. 

I look at her again as the top closes over my head.  Maria “Photon” Rambeau.  I always knew I was destined to be here.  We always knew we’d be here, in this moment. 

Why do I feel like it’s going to go so very wrong? 

 

 


	2. Dog Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this gets boring... It's a Top Gun tie in. Also, we see a little more of Carol and Maria's relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will go down with this ship! 
> 
> If you're not a YonVers fan, or a fan of complicated ships, this little fic might not be for you.

“Avenger you just did an incredibly brave thing,” Lawson begins, still looking at the huge monitor on her desk.  I think for a moment I’m _not_ going to get chewed out.  Then she glances up at me over her reading glasses.  “What you should have done was land your plane.”  And that’s when I know I’m in trouble.  “You don’t own that plane, the taxpayers do.” 

As she continues, I zone out.  I see flashes of what happened.  Everything was going fine, and after being in the clouds I’d finally gotten over the jitters. 

“How you doing?” I asked Maria over the comms. 

“Feels like home,” she replied with a smile in her voice. 

We were about half a mile off the coast of Israel.  Nothing looked out of place.  I was starting to wonder if I was feeling uneasy only because it was Maria’s first mission back, and I was thinking I was worse than the men.  She had a baby, not a stroke, I remember thinking. 

Suddenly, out of nowhere, two MiGs buzzed past us.  I gasp and look around, shocked that a foreign aircraft would fly so close. 

“Did you see that?” I yelled out, forgetting for a moment that I was connected to a breathing apparatus that also lets Maria and command on the carrier hear every word I say. 

“What did you see, Avenger?” CWO Coulson asked from the carrier.

“MiGs, two of them,” Maria said.  “They’re locking on to me.”

“I don’t see them on the radar,” Coulson countered.  “Are you sure…” 

“It’s kinda hard to miss, being buzzed at less than thirty feet.  They were right there,” I exclaimed.  If I was a man, he wouldn’t have second guessed me. 

“They’re in front of us, I don’t know how they’re locked in on you,” I tell Maria.

“Maybe there are more.  Maybe they’re behind us,” she yelled. 

I looked all around, but don’t see anything else.  “There’s nothing there.”

“My guidance is gone.  I don’t know what direction I’m going.”  Maria sounds like she’s about to panic.  “I have to shoot.  They have me locked in!”

That’s when two more buzzed us.  Maybe she was right.  Maybe they did lock on her.  But why not me?  I took a deep breath.  I tried to be rational.  But the radar didn’t pick them up.  Did they have new cloaking or some shit?

“We’re calling you back.  Do not engage,” Coulson said after several moments of silence from the ship.  “I repeat, do not engage.”

That’s when I saw two MiGs flying at us.  It could have been the first two that buzzed us, or that could total six.  And I tried not to freak out, but I was seriously freaking out. 

“I don’t know where I’m going, Avenger.  I’m flying blind.”  She was this close to losing it, I could hear it in her voice. 

“I’ll guide you in, Photon,” I answered.  “Follow me.”  I banked right, slowing down to wait for Maria.  Two more MiGs are facing me.  Alarms began to sound.  “They’re locking in on me.”  I tried to sound calm, even though I was losing my shit. 

“I can’t see you,” Maria yelled.

“Come back to the carrier Avenger.” 

“I’m not leaving Photon,” I argued. 

“You have to land, Avenger.  Now!” Coulson ordered.

I hit the brakes, and let everything stop for a second.  “We have to go back, Photon.” 

One salamander.  Two salamander.  Three salamander.  Four salaman-.  Another MiG flew by.  Were we sent out into the middle of a Russian training exercise?  Or did they somehow know we were flying a mission and come looking for us? 

I should have listened to my gut.

Everything flashed in my mind.  Racing my brother on a go-cart.  Being pushed down in the sand.  Being knocked down by a stray pitch.  Falling during basic training.  Looking down into Monica’s eyes when she was barely an hour old. 

“I see you, Avenger.  I’m coming up on your tail,” I heard Maria say.  I don’t know how I kept it together, but I guided Maria to the carrier, and Coulson brought her in for the landing. 

I exhale loudly.  “There was a brown-shirt before we took off,” I explain to my commanding officer. 

“There are always brown shirts on the deck before a take off,” she says, sounding obviously exasperated.  She looks back at the screen. 

“I didn’t know this one,” I tell her. 

“You’re trying to tell me you think your plane was sabotaged?”  I have all of her attention now. 

“Not mine.  Maria’s.  She said her radar and guidance were down.”  I’m trying to remain calm, but it’s hard as hell. 

Lawson stares at me for several moment.  “I’ll talk to Maria later.  You’re both being sent to San Diego to debrief.”  I hold my breath, waiting for more.  She wants to say something else, I can feel it like I did this morning.  “Also, if you’re chosen you might be headed to NAS Fallon.” 

I try not to laugh.  Every naval airman wants to go to TOPGUN.  There are so few women who have been chosen to attend. 

“After you’re debriefed you’ll be informed if you’ve been chosen,” Lawson continues.  “Pack your gear.  You’ll be stateside before the end of day tomorrow.”

“And Lieutenant Rambeau?” I ask.  I don’t know if I can go without her.  It wouldn’t be right.  But I also couldn’t turn it down.  It’s one of those opportunities that can make or break a career. 

“I don’t know.  It’s not up to me.  You’re excused,” she says.  I sigh and move toward the door.  “Good work out there today, Ace.”

A feeling of calm finally settles over me, the way I feel when my nose is pointing toward the sky.  That’s when I know everything will be okay.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is unedited, unbetaed, and unfinished. But I am determined to fight this writer's block, and the best way to do it is write!


	3. Man!  I Feel Like A Woman!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Top Gun Captain Marvel mash up must have a spontaneous karaoke performance, joined by others who did not practice.
> 
> Also, Maria Rambeau is the best wing man ever. She's gonna make sure Carol meets the hot man down the bar!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will go down with this ship!
> 
> If you aren't a fan of complicated ships, you might want to skip this one!

 

 

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to drink?” Maria asks me, as she grabs hold of her third bottle of beer.  “We have to do Navy shit in the morning.”

I grin cockily.  I’m such a bad influence.  “If you’re chosen for Top Gun you’ll have three weeks off.  You can go back to Louisiana to see that beautiful baby girl of yours.”  I smile as I say it.  I try not to be jealous, knowing I have no one to go home to.  The Navy is my home and my family now, I remind myself. 

“What about you?  What would you do for three weeks without me?” she mutters, before she takes another swig.  “You’d starve.  And be completely miserable.” 

“I wouldn’t presume to…” I begin, before I look away sheepishly. 

And that’s when I see him.  He’s handsome in a knock your breath out of your chest kind of way, and I’m only seeing his profile.  I wonder what it would be like to look into his eyes.  He’s leaning against the bar staring into a pint like he doesn’t know whether to drink it or cry into it. 

I hope to god I never feel that way.  If I lost Maria and Monica, I might be that sad.  Or if I was told I could never fly again.  But I don’t think I’d be in a bar drinking watered down beer.  I think I’d be in my quarters, drinking whiskey until I was oblivious. 

“What are you looking at, Carol?” Maria asks, as she follows my line of sight.  I look away, staring so awkwardly at the bartender that he gives me a wink.  I roll my eyes at him.  “Carol, are you looking at that guy?” 

“He’s not a guy.  He’s obviously a man,” I counter, without looking at him. 

“Oh, he’s a _man_.”  Maria’s voice is teasing, and I can’t help but smile.  “Why don’t you go talk to the _man_?”

“Quit,” I whine.  “Don’t do this to me.  It always ends up with me making a terrible decision with a guy who I would never call the next day, even if I did get his number.”

“But those were guys, Carol.  Him, down there, he’s a _man_.”  This time there’s a tinge of sharpness to her voice.  I have a horrible feeling I’m in a lot of trouble.  “Hey, you!” Maria yells, and everyone in the bar turns to look.  Since it’s the officer’s club on base, it’s mostly full of men, and they all turn toward us.  All of them except for the fine slice of man at the end of the bar. 

He’s wearing a suit.  Not a Navy uniform, just a plain black suit with a light gray shirt and no tie.  He doesn’t look like he fits in here, but if he’s on base he must belong here.  It makes me even more curious about him. 

“No, you!”  Maria lowers her voice just a little, but she’s loud enough that he could hear her. 

“Let’s go girls,” she says, and turns toward me and winks.

“No, please Maria,” I beg, but she snaps her fingers and says it again.  This time louder.  “Let’s go girls!  C’mon!”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t _not_ play the air guitar for her.  She begins to sing karaoke, even without the music.  “I’m going out tonight, I’m feeling alright.  I’m gonna let it all hang out!”

“Two is your new limit!” I call out, even though she continues. 

“Wanna make some noise, really raise my voice, yea I wanna scream and shout.”  As she sings she walks toward him, and I’m embarrassed and intrigued at the same time. 

And anyway, the next lines are mine.  I am required to sing.  “No inhibitions, make no conditions, get a little outta line.  I ain’t gonna act politically correct, I only wanna have a good time.” 

He finally turns around, and seems utterly surprised, and at the same time pleased, that I’m singing to him. 

“The best thing about being a woman is the prerogative to have a little fun and…”

By this time we’re surrounded by the other ten or twelve women in the room.  And they’re all determined to sing off key right along with me. 

“Oh oh oh!  Go totally crazy, forget I’m a lady.  Men’s shirt,” (at which I grab at my white Navy dress shirt) “short skirts” (at this Maria grabs my knee length white skirt and pulls it up an inch or two).  “Oh oh oh oh!  Really go wild and doing it in style.” 

His right eyebrow cocks up, and his eyes roam over my body.  Is it getting hot in here, or is it just him?

“Oh oh oh oh!  Get in the action, feel the attraction.”  I wink then.  He almost smiles.  “Color my hair,” (Maria somehow finds my hat at that exact moment) “do what I dare.  Oh oh oh!  I want to be free yeah, and feel the way I feel.”

At that his eyes meet mine, and they’re a vibrant, sparkly golden color that rips my heart out.  I might even gasp when I see them, like I knew I would. 

“Man, I feel like a woman!”  I finish, with a chuckle.  I toss my hat, and my wingman catches it as if we practiced the move.  It was perfect. 

He exhales loudly and nods at the empty barstool beside him.  I practically toss myself onto it. 

All the girls laugh out loud and high five me.  They’re saying things like, “Go get ‘em girl!”  And “You go girl!” 

Maria just winks and walks away drinking my beer. 

I giggle when he turns his body toward mine.  I can’t look away from his hypnotic eyes.  They’re sexy, and unique, and fascinating all at the same time.  I might even bite my bottom lip like a helplessly overexcited virgin from a romance novel. 

“So, I have to know.  Do you have a sexy black bustier under that men’s shirt?” he asks, and I swear I think my panties might go up in flames.  He’s fucking British!  And he knows Shania Twain.  Could he be any more perfect?  He even has a little cleft in his chin, emphasizing his manly square jaw.  And his voice is enough to make me shiver. 

“Do you want to find out?” I flirt, and move my hand to one of my buttons.  I even give him a cheeky wink. 

“I would probably enjoy it very much, but I have an early morning.”  He glances toward the door just then, and shakes his head.  “And I’m sorry but my friend is here.” 

I follow his eyes, and see a very uptight looking woman, who probably has never had a drink in her life.  “Is that your sister?” I ask, hopefully. 

“Ha!  No,” he answers, and stands to walk toward her.  That’s when I notice that his shirt is unbuttoned maybe one too many to be socially acceptable, and I can definitely see the cleavage of some sexy male pecs. 

“Nice to meet you,” he says, as he glances down at the nametag on my shirt again, “Lieutenant Danvers.” 

He walks away, toward the other woman, and I swear my heart hurts.  He kisses the woman on her cheek, and leads her toward an empty booth in the corner. 

I stare for just a second too long.  Until the bartender approaches, and I say, “I need a beer to put out these flames.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is unedited, unbetaed, and unfinished, but I will get through this somehow! Thanks for reading!


	4. Dust Yourself Off and Try Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carol Danvers doesn't give up that easily. 
> 
> And yes, Maverick follows Charlie into the bathroom. I cringed when I rewatched it. That was the 80's. 
> 
> I'm going all in for the Marvel Top Gun mashup! I hope you enjoy it!

“That didn’t go well,” Maria points out. 

I glance over at her, before I shake my head and look away.  This time I’m facing away from the bartender thankfully.  But my eyes wander, and they find him.  “Is that a fresh beer?”  I can’t help wondering what she’s going to do next.

“It’s yours, you just ordered it,” she says with a laugh. 

I smirk at what she says, but something's bothering me again.  I can’t take my eyes off the man, which is really bothering me.  But they’re sitting at a booth in the corner of the officer’s club.  Looking over paperwork.  And he’s making comments about them.  And she’s pointing out certain parts. 

Why is a civilian talking to another civilian about paperwork in an officer’s club on a Naval base?  That’s just not right. 

“Hey Danvers.  Command to Danvers.  You there?” Maria asks. 

I feel my eyes involuntarily squint up at the two strange people in the booth, before I return my attention to Maria.  A very large blonde man is standing in front of her, drinking beer from a huge stein and grinning from ear to ear.  The other guy with him is good looking, shorter with brown hair.  He looks like he’d be fun to drink with. 

Maria introduces us. “This is Chris “Thor” Odinson, and his wing man Scott “Antman” Lang.  They’re two of the best pilots in the Navy.” 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Lieutenant Lang says with a shrug.  “It’s very nice to meet you Avenger.”  He takes my hand and shakes it, a little too enthusiastically.  “Photon was telling us you stayed cool and led her back while flying with MiGs.” 

I grin at him, and have to force my hand out of his.  “I didn’t shoot any down or anything.  It’s not a big deal.”  I stare into his leaf green eyes, trying to size him up.  He has a very nice smile, and eyes that twinkle.  I don’t like him.  “You seem very _nice_.”  I point out. 

“Well I grew up in Kansas with British parents, so…”  He grins again, and gives me a tiny shrug.  “I like tea,” he blurts out.  I smirk and squint my eyes up at him again.  Sometimes I don’t even mean to do it, it just happens.  “I guess nice is in my DNA.” 

“Hmmmm…”  I murmur.  No one is that nice naturally, are they?  “Why do they call you Antman?” 

He chuckles, and blushes.  “It’s a long story,” he begins.

“I bet it is,” I reply sarcastically. 

I look back at Maria as Antman begins talking, and she’s chatting with the large one.  He’s handsome in a _Hammer of the gods_ , _We are your overlords_ Immigrant Song kind of way.  “And where are your parents from?  Norway?” I interrupt.  I glance down at his name tag to make sure I didn’t misunderstand Maria.  “Odinson?” 

“Actually my father’s great-grandparents were Norwegian.  My mother is Australian.”  He says it proudly, with an even bigger smile.  He looks me up and down.  Not in the panty-soaking, knees weak kind of way the other man did.  In a sizing up another pilot kind of way.  Or maybe I’m just more attracted to the man with the golden eyes, and I’m just annoyed by the wannabe Viking. 

“Antman and I are on our way to Top Gun,” he says, with a smirk that could rival my own. 

“That’s awesome.  Good for you,” I reply, with as little sarcasm as I can manage.  I tip my head slightly to the side, but I don’t back down from looking right into his eyes, even if I do have to tip my head back to do it. 

His eyes squint up too, before he exclaims out of nowhere, “I like this one,” to Maria. 

 _This one_?  That’s actually not the most sexist thing…

I see movement to my right, and I see it’s _the_ man.  He’s walking down the hall, toward the restrooms.  “Excuse me,” I say.  I can’t believe I’m following a man to the bathroom.  This is low, even for me.  But I want to get out of this conversation, and I want to talk to the man again. 

I don’t even enter the ladies’ room.  I just linger in the hallway until he exits.  I couldn’t make it any more obvious that I’m stalking him.  But he gives me a thoughtful look, and an almost smile.  I’d love to know what it would take to make him really smile. 

“Why are you British?” I ask, as if interrogating him.  I can’t shake the feeling that he does not belong here, even though he’s insanely attractive and my stomach is tying itself into knots just standing this close to him.  Oh god, he smells like expensive leather and pine trees.  Am I biting my fucking lip again? 

“Because I was born in England,” he replies, coolly and with just a touch of superiority and ton of sharp wit.  This man is going to be trouble. 

“What are you doing on an American Naval base, then?” I continue, getting just a little closer and sniffing.  I close my eyes and just enjoy his scent.  There’s a hint of roses, and oranges.  I might be dying from how good he smells. 

“I’m a contractor.  I was going over employment papers with a lawyer,” he answers.  At least he didn’t try to hedge, or make something up.  He was very straight forward.  I like that.  A lot.  Almost as much as his cologne.  His shoulders relax a little, from the stunningly straight posture he normally has, and he crosses his arms in front of his chest.  It doesn’t look defensive on him.  It looks almost casual, and confident.  “Any more questions, Lieutenant Danvers?”  

“Several,” I counter, with what I hope is a very suggestive grin.  “What cologne are you wearing?”  I can’t not ask.  He smells divine. 

He scoffs, as his golden eyes drink in my smile, my face, my severe regulation hairstyle, and my shoulders that are almost as straight as his.  “Royal Mayfair by The House of Creed.  Do you like it?” 

“It’s incredible,” I reply candidly.  “I could drink it by the gallon.” 

“That would probably kill you,” he states.  There’s no nonsense in his words or his movements.  I have a feeling he was a soldier.  Maybe even a spy. 

“Maybe I’d die happy,” I respond, with more than a little sass and a cock of the eyebrow. 

“Or maybe you’d die painfully.”  His eyebrow cocks up in response. 

I shiver again.  He’s excruciatingly serious, and far too sexy.  “Did you at any time have a Double 0 designation?”  I mean, he could fucking _be_ James Bond, with his cool British sexiness. 

“That’s only what it’s called in movies,” he says.  I see a hint of a smile tug at the corners of his sexy mouth again.  It’s incredible. 

“Did you at any time have a license to kill?”  My eyes go wide this time, and I’m afraid I’ve shown him that I’m teasing.  But I also really want to know. 

“I’m afraid I have to get back.  Good bye, Lieutenant Danvers,” he says with a very formal nod of his head. 

“You didn’t say no!” I point out, as I watch his sexy ass walk away. 

Being that fucking sexy should be illegal.  Confidence and self-assuredness oozes off of him.  I’d love to sink my teeth into his damn shoulders, and see if he flinches or stays ramrod straight.  I’d love to try to crack his cold exterior. 

“Can I get your number?” I call out, before he leaves the hallway.

I hear a slight chuckle, and then he’s gone. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're enjoying it. Please leave a little encouragement if you have a moment.


	5. Come As You Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lieutenant Carol Danvers, I'd like to introduce you to Dr. David Yon. 
> 
> Let the games begin.

Maria and I are sitting in the waiting room for the psychiatrist we’re supposed to see to debrief.  She’s looking at magazines, but I’ve got too much on my mind.  The more I think about what happened, the more I wonder what in the hell happened.  How did we end up in the middle of that?  Something like that doesn’t just happen.  Missions are planned out.  Intelligence is analyzed.  The Navy doesn’t just throw pilots into the air.  There was a reason we were up there. 

I hear a door open, and I jump.  I’m on edge, and my night of drinking beer and flirting shamelessly with Antman didn’t help any.  I found out he really is a nice guy, playful and funny and entertaining.  I wondered why he’s not married for the first half hour, then I noticed that he was second guessing himself.  He actually asked me twice if I was sure I wouldn’t rather be talking to Thor.  He’s got to be insecure, even though he seems to be a competent and confident pilot.  Maybe he just doesn’t realize how handsome and personable he is. 

It probably doesn’t help that I was only talking to him because hot man I wanted to take back to the temporary housing shot me down. 

“Lieutenant Danvers,” I hear, and glance up to see said hot man standing in the open doorway.  Today he’s wearing a very formal medium gray three piece suit, including a double breasted vest and black tie.  He’s somehow even sexier while also being more buttoned down.  I want to tear off every one of his damn buttons with my teeth.  Slowly.  While I’m mentally undressing him with my eyes, he’s standing there ramrod straight again, as if he’s waiting on something.  His eyebrows raise as he says, “You’re next, Lieutenant.” 

I tear my eyes away from his, and look at the placard that’s almost right by his head. 

**Dr. David Yon**

I look back at him, and his head is nodded slightly toward the little sign. 

I close my eyes, and try not to laugh.  Why?  For fuck’s sake!  WHY!

“So, he told you no because he’s the psychiatrist?”  Maria words it as a question, but I think she’s making a point. 

“Thanks Captain Obvious,” I reply with maybe a little too much snark.  She’s my best friend.  She knows me, and she’ll forgive me.  I hope. 

I stand reluctantly, and walk toward the door as if I’m being dragged by my wrist like an angry kid going to the principal’s office.  And if anyone would know what that feels like, it’s me. 

He graciously extends his hand toward the open door.  He glances at Maria in a very disciplinarian way, as if instructing her wordlessly to not encourage me. 

“Whatever,” she snaps back, and returns to the Cosmo she’s been flipping through.  She’s a very strong pilot, but she’s also a very strong woman. 

“So, are you James Bond or Sigman Freud?” I ask, as I walk past him. 

“Sigmund Freud,” he corrects me, as he closes the door behind us.  Finally we’re all alone, and it’s in a psychiatrist’s office.  And he’s the psychiatrist.  Fuck my life. 

“Does it matter?  You didn’t answer my question,” I remind him.  He points out a chair, the same way he guided me into his office, with a very formal sweep of his hand.  “Thanks, doc.”  I say with a grin. 

His eyebrows go up again, as if he wants to correct me.  But he doesn’t.  Instead he asks, “Which question.”

“Either,” I say.  He takes his seat behind his desk.  It’s a very expensive looking chair.  I bet it’s comfortable.  I bet I could straddle his slim hips and grab his shoulders, and really dig in deep in that chair. 

He almost grins.  “You know I can’t answer your question from last night, or I’d have to kill you.”  He almost has a bit of a laugh in his voice.  He’s deflecting. 

“Maybe, but would you get away with it?” I counter.  His reply is silence, and a slight nod of his head.  “And the other one?”

“Somewhere in between,” he answers with just a hint of cockiness.  He stares at me for several moments.  This is definitely not a panty melting look.  It’s more of a, _What am I going to do with you you incorrigible child_ kind of look.  And there’s almost nothing I hate more than a man looking at me that way.  But I’ll let it slide from this particular man.  I’d almost encourage it.  If I was sitting in his chair with him.  Facing him.  Riding him. 

“You’re very smart, Lieutenant.  Very curious.  It makes me wonder why you have all of these reprimands on your record.”  He looks down at the very thick folder on his desk. 

“I might have flown too close to a control tower, once or twice,” I reply.  I don’t like feeling this way.  I hate to be on the defensive. 

“Five times,” he corrects me. 

“Eh,” I shrug. 

“And you buzzed a commander’s quarters,” he continues. 

“He actually said I was a good pilot for a girl,” I contest. 

“You don’t like being seen as a woman?”  And so it begins.  His expression has changed.  He’s studying me now.  “Unless you’re singing in a bar.” 

Damn, he’s fucking good.  I’d love to wipe that smug look off his face. 

“The only thing I like less than being treated differently for having ovaries, is being psychoanalyzed for it.”  It comes out a little more irritated than I mean it to. 

And he almost grins, like a shark that smells blood in the water.  Like he’s finally found my weakness.  We stare at each other, silently fighting for dominance.  I don’t say anything, and neither does he. 

He blinks first.  “Tell me about the MiGs,” he questions, before he again looks at my file. 

“You don’t have the clearance to…” I begin.  But he looks at me again, and just his expression stops me. 

“I’m a psychiatrist on a Naval base.  I have clearance you couldn’t even imagine,” he assures me. 

“I dunno.  I have a pretty big imagination.”  I grin as I say it.

“I bet you do,” he says, and his voice is almost warm. 

I take his moment of weakness to ask, “How are your eyes gold?”

“My father was an alien,” he replies, just as seriously as he’s answered all of my other questions.  Damn he’s an excellent liar.  I bet he could bluff even in a poker tournament.  And he’d probably win with a pair of deuces.  I feel my right eyebrow cock up again.  I’m challenging him.  He breaks again.  “They’re merely hazel, Lieutenant Danvers.  They’re nothing special.” 

I have a feeling he knows exactly how special he is.  And I bet he uses it to his advantage every chance he gets. 

“Now you answer my question,” he prompts. 

The MiGs.  That’s right.  That’s why I’m here.  Not to mentally spar with him.  Not to test him, or tease him.  I’m here because he’s a doctor and I’m his patient, unwilling or not.  I sigh loudly, and he again defers and glances at my file.  But he doesn’t say anything.  He’s just quietly waiting. 

“Wanna fight, Dr. Yon?” I ask him. 

I almost get a smile at that.  His voice has sped past confident and is at the point of cocky when he answers.  “I could have sworn we’ve been doing that since last night.” 

“I work things out in my head better when I’m using my fists,” I admit.  Probably the worst thing to tell a psychiatrist that I’m also unabashedly crushing on, but oh well. 

His eyes roam over my blue BDU’s, sleeves rolled up and too many buttons undone to be regulation, showing my light blue undershirt.  His eyes return to mine, and they’re sparkling again.  I almost blush at the heat I see in them. 

“As much as I’m sure we’d both enjoy a sparring session, I think I’d rather you use your words.”  How the hell did he make _sparring_ sound so much like _fucking_?

“I’d like another psychiatrist,” I finally say.  I can’t tell this man everything that’s inside my head, while I’m planning on fucking him crazy.

“I’m the only one you’re getting.”  He’s trying to get back to that cool, detached British tone again, but he’s failing. 

I might have cracked open his armor.  I feel like I just won a battle, but lost the war.  And I hate it. 

“It all started with a feeling.  I felt uneasy as soon as I stepped onto the deck.” 

He starts writing, and I glance over his desk trying to try to see.  He writes furiously as I continue the story.  And when I’m finished he’s staring right at me with those golden eyes. 

“Have you ever flown, Dr. Yon?” I ask him after I’m finished with my story. 

“Not without a plane and a pilot.”  His voice is just a tad lighter now.  “I understand the feeling of unease before going on a mission.  Sometimes they’re right, sometimes they’re wrong.  You’re obviously very intelligent.  If you thought something was off with the brown-shirt, you were probably right.  I would definitely trust your judgment.” 

“What just happened?”  It’s a completely serious question.  He looks at me like he suddenly doesn’t understand English.  “Are you patronizing me?” 

“I would never,” he begins.  But he must see something in my eyes, and doesn’t continue.  “You don’t trust many people, do you?”

“Wanna fight?” I ask him again. 

He stares at me silently again, weighing whether he should ask or not.  He does.  “Do you work out your emotions better with your fists?”

“I’d rather work my emotions out with sex, but you seem totally against that.  So I guess fighting is a good substitute.”  I’m not sure if I’m being honest or sarcastic. 

His expression says he doesn’t know either.  “Sure, Danvers.  Let’s fight.  How about we meet at the gym at five thirty?” 

“Can we go to dinner after?”

He almost smiles.  “Don’t press your luck.” 


	6. Didn't Get Laid.  I Got In a Fight.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh huh. It ain't no big thing. Come on pretty baby, kiss me deadly!
> 
>  
> 
> Carol and Dr. Yon spar. It's the beginning of a beautiful... something...

I arrived at the gym early, because I don’t have anything better to do.  Maria practically begged to come with me, but only because she wanted to watch what she called, “The biggest shit show of Carol Danvers' life.” 

I shook my head when she said it, but I knew it was true.  “I don’t need any witnesses to this failure, Maria.  You’ve already seen so many.” 

“Ahhhhh.  But you’ve also had a lot of successes too.  And I’ve been there for a lot of those.  Why can’t I watch the cute psychiatrist turn you down again?  Until I can see my baby again it’s the most fun I’ll have.” 

That’s why we get along so well.  I don’t get offended when she mocks my love life, and she doesn’t get mad when I’m the biggest snark monster on the planet. 

I have to admit I’m a little nervous.  I mean, I couldn’t make it any more obvious that I want him.  And he couldn’t make it any more obvious that he takes the doctor patient shit very seriously.  He obviously takes everything very seriously. 

Including his clothing, I realize as I watch him enter the gym.  He has an expensive bag slung over his shoulder, gray joggers and a white lightweight jacket.  I have a feeling they’re expensive too.  The suit he wore this morning was not necessarily in style, but I knew it cost a lot as soon as I saw it.  I Googled the cologne he wears.  He seems to have very expensive tastes.  I guess being a military contractor pays well. 

He waves when he sees me.  He finds a bench by the mats, and sets his bag down.  Then he removes the jacket.  Underneath he’s wearing a light gray tank top.  He is jacked.  His biceps aren’t huge, not like Thor’s, but they’re well defined.  And his shoulders are sculpted and just as bitable as I assumed they’d be.  And his ass, which is sexy as hell, is accentuated by the joggers, and the fact that his tank ends right at the waistband of his trousers.  Obviously he’s just as serious about his workouts as he is about everything else. 

“Danvers.”  He uses my last name as a greeting when he arrives on the mat in front of me.  And his eyes roam over me yet again, taking in my comfortably worn work out gear.  I’m proud of the t-shirt and pants I wore at the Naval Academy.  It shows I’ve achieved something.  But his eyes immediately find the small hole at the neckband, and I feel like he’s looking down his nose at me. 

His posture is straight as always, and just a tad more defensive than usual.  He’s not ready to fight, yet, but he seems a little nervous about something.  I figure out what it is when he finally opens his mouth and speaks his concerns. 

“I don’t know what kind of formal training you have, but I have a black belt in Krav Maga and Brazilian Jiu-jitsu.”  As my heart starts to fall into my stomach, realizing that I might not have thought this whole sparring thing through, he continues, “I also did some boxing in the armed forces.” 

I take a deep breath and square my shoulders.  I did achieve a blue belt in Karate when I was in middle school, but my parents didn’t really have the money to keep me in classes.  Then when I got in high school I was too interested in cars and engines to be bothered with fighting.  I have taken kick boxing classes off and on since I’ve been in the Navy, when I’m in a place to actually take them, and I always use the punching bags in the gym, when I think of it. 

I always kicked the guys’ asses in basic training, because they either underestimated me or they tried too hard and over reached or overexerted themselves and left their soft spots vulnerable to my attack.  But I don’t think Dr. Yon will do either. 

“I can hold my own,” I say.  I’m sure my bluff is not nearly as good as his.  I blow on the stray strand of hair that has fallen out of my ponytail and into my eye, hoping it adds flair to my words. 

“What are the rules?  No punching…” he starts to negotiate. 

And I take the opportunity to attack before he’s ready.  It’s a shit move, but I don’t care.  I just want to punch his handsome, arrogant face.  He avoids my sloppy punches easily, moving back and forth as if he knows what’s coming.  It pisses me off, but I’ve never been one to give up.  I move into him as I throw my next punch.  He steps back and blocks my right hand with his forearm, then grabs my left jab with his hand. 

“You’re very aggressive, but you have no style.  Focus on your movements,” he coaches gently. 

With his posh British accent he doesn’t sound like he’s trying to be helpful, he just sounds like a pompous asshole.  I pull my hand away from his, throw off the arm that’s blocking mine, and twist away.  But he grabs me and flips me over, throwing me down onto the mat.  It almost knocks the wind out of me. 

I lay here for just a moment, trying to breathe while staring up at him.  He’s standing in a defensive posture now, arms close to his sides and hands in fists, right foot forward and back leg planted.  Damn, he’s gorgeous, and his biceps are huge. 

Is it sane that he just knocked me on my ass and all I can think about is how much I wish he’d join me?  Maybe I should ask a psychiatrist.  Oh, wait…

“You’re fighting with your emotions, not your brain,” he tells me before he offers me his hand to help me up. 

It’s the same shit I’ve heard all my life.  I’d never be a good soldier, or a good pilot, because somehow having tits makes you hysterical. 

I reach for his hand, at the same time I try to swing my calf around to knock him off balance.  He catches my forearm and twists, pulling me up onto my knees.  It's embarrassing, but I've had much worse defeats. He’s staring down at me with what looks like equal parts fascination and confusion. 

“Control your emotions.  Use this.”  He gently touches two fingers to my forehead.  I look up at him defiantly, but I know he’s right.  I’ve been fighting my entire life with nothing but raw anger and willpower.  I’ve been fighting so hard to prove that I can play baseball, and race cars, and fix engines, and _fly_ , that I never learned how to fight with my fists. 

“Teach me,” I utter, before I can stop myself or take it back.  

This shocks him, I can tell.  He tilts his head to the side, as if he doesn’t understand me.  But he doesn’t release his hold on my arm, and it’s starting to hurt just a little.  “To fight, or to control your emotions?” he asks. 

“Both?” I exclaim.

He stares at me, until this time I’m the one to look away.  He seems to want to say something, desperately.  But what he says is, “Sure.  I’ll teach you.”  He Releases his hold on my arm, and I pull away roughly and rub my wrist. 

I grin through the pain, as I always have.  “So, about dinner?”

“I’ll take you to dinner when you can beat me Danvers,” he offers, smoothly.  He moves to help me up, and I let him.  “Your first lesson begins now.”  He pulls me until my back is facing him, and grabs my ponytail.  He doesn’t yank it, or jerk it, but it’s enough to surprise me. 

“Hey!” I yell, and try to pull away. 

“That’s the exact wrong move,” he says smugly.  I stop moving, and instead lean back toward him.  “That’s good.  Now reach for my wrist, while at the same time try to throw a punch.” 

I lean back and turn toward him.  It’s actually a very intuitive move.  It feels right.  I grab his wrist with my left hand, and step to punch with my right. 

He avoids my punch, but he releases my hair and steps back.  “That was perfect Danvers.  Did that feel natural to you?”

“Yea, it did.”  I nod as I tell him.  The praise actually feels pretty good too.  “And my name is Carol.”

“I know.”  He gives me a little more of a grin.  Maybe it’s a smirk.  “Let’s do it again.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're enjoying my stupid mash up, please let me know!


	7. BFFs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mom (Maria) knows what's best. 
> 
> Even when Carol doesn't.

Maria is curled up on the couch in my room, watching reruns of Big Bang Theory.  If I had a kitchen I’d be standing in front of the freezer with a bag of frozen peas on my cheek.  And another on my neck.  And one more on my ass.  Because I was knocked on it so many times I think it’s now the same blue as the mat we sparred on.  Instead, I have three towels from the bathroom full of ice from the machine down the hall.  It’s melting all over everything, the bed, my t-shirt, my sweatpants. 

Maria was kind enough to bring me some ibuprofen, because she’s a responsible adult and always carries shit like that in her travel kit.  Me, I’m lucky if I have soap.  They usually have it in these places anyway.  I’ve been in dozens of them, and they’re almost all the same.  I like not have a home.  I’m a free spirit.  I am one with the wind and the clouds. 

Except this afternoon, when I was one with the ground and the mat. 

“And how did your cheek get bruised?” Maria asks, when she hears me groan again. 

“I hit his elbow with my face,” I reply. 

She turns to look at me like I’ve lost my mind.  “Girl, you’re crazy!”

“It really happened.  He was turning to avoid my punch, and I thought I’d be smart and follow through, and I smashed my cheek right into his elbow.”  Remembering all of the times I would strike only to find him already dodging the blow, it literally blows my mind.  “He’s faster than anyone I’ve ever seen.  And he never even threw a punch.  All he did was bob and weave, and deflect.  He should have been a professional boxer.”

I gather up all the towels filled with ice and carry them into the bathroom.  I glance at myself in the mirror, thinking at least it doesn’t look as bad as it feels.  I feel like I was smashed by a herd of hippos.  I could have given up at any time.  I could have stopped the training exercise.  But I didn’t want to.  I wanted to spend the time with him.  I wanted to learn from him.  And I felt better as I exerted the energy, and his praise didn’t hurt either. 

“Why didn’t you just tap out?” Maria asks, loud enough that I can hear her in the other room. 

“Did you just meet me?” I retort, as I walk toward the open door.  “Hello, I’m Carol Danvers, and I don’t tap out for no man!”  I exclaim loudly, with my chest puffed out and my head back. 

“You tapped out, didn’t you?” she jibes as she returns her attention to the TV.  

“Of course not.”  I’m even more snarky than usual as I say it. 

“Uh huh,” Maria murmurs. 

“He said he had a prior engagement, and he was sorry he had to leave when I were just getting warmed up.”  I grumble as I try to find a spot on my bed that’s comfortable against my bruised body, and ego. 

“Sounds like a gentleman,” she says. 

I wasn’t thinking that when he said it, because he didn’t even look at his expensive watch.  He took one look at me laying prone on the mat, struggling to breathe or get up, and he announced he had somewhere else he needed to be.  Then he graciously helped me up and asked politely if I needed any help. 

“He lied,” I mutter.  “He threw in the towel for me.” 

Maria chuckles.  “Probably best.  You wouldn’t have quit.” 

“Hell no I wouldn’t have quit.  I would have got back up and tried again.”  Even if I’d broken a rib I wouldn’t have stopped trying to at least land one blow.  “It wouldn’t have killed him to let me hit him, just once.  I might have felt like I got something out of it.” 

“You would hate him if he’d let you hit him.”  I agree but I don’t say anything.  She’s thoughtfully quiet for several moments.  When she finally speaks I’m a bit stunned.  “Lawson messaged me earlier.  She said she didn’t think we’d be chosen for Top Gun, and suggested I take a long weekend in Louisiana before we were sent back to the Mediterranean.” 

I sigh.  I really thought we’d make it.  Maybe next time. 

“So why the long face?  You get to see Monica,” I offer cheerfully. 

“I think you should stay here.  Maybe the cute doctor will change his mind.”  

I shake my head.  “If you get to see Monica, I do too!”

“When we return to the Mediterranean you might never see the doctor again.  Maybe you should give it a chance.”  I give her a hmmmph, but she continues.  “You’ll have the rest of your life to spend with Monica.  I think you should at least try.”

I don’t know what I’m doing with men.  Sex I understand.  Men I don’t.  I didn’t get along with my father, and my brother was so much older he didn’t have a lot of time for me.  Especially when he went off to college. 

“Get to know him, Care.  You might like him.”  Her voice is softer, more motherly. 

“Fine, Ri.  But the next time you head to Louisiana, I’m going too!” 

She nods.  “I’m headed to bed.  You gonna live through the night?” 

“Yes, mom,” I say with a chuckle.  I cross my arms over my chest as she leave the room, and when the door is finally closed I wince.  I really got my ass kicked this time. 

And I probably will next time too.  Doesn’t mean I’m not going to fight him again. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying it! Thanks for reading.


	8. If You Believe There's Nothing Up His Sleeve, Then Nothing Is Cool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carol has questions. Doctor Yon has answers. But can she believe them?

The next day I hug Maria and make sure she gets on the plane safely.  She was lucky to catch a flight on an Air Force plane headed to Barksdale AFB.  I wonder if Lawson had something to do with that, but I don’t think too much about it.  I find myself thinking more about Dr. Yon.  So I make my way to his office, and ask his secretary if he might have a free moment to talk. 

She instructs me to have a seat in the waiting area.  I glance at the magazines on the table, which were probably ordered by the secretary.  I wonder how many seamen care about the latest makeup craze, or the ten best ways to make your crush notice you.  I have to admit I might need that one, so I pick up the magazine and start reading. 

I hear the door open again, and I don’t immediately look up.  But I do look out of the corner of my eye and see two pairs of legs.  I make it a point not to look up.  I’m sure whoever the other person is doesn’t want me gawking.  I hear Dr. Yon talking, and just the sound of his voice sends shivers through me.  

I see the other person walking away, before I find a pair of expensive shoes right outside of my line of sight.  “Ten ways to get your crush to fall for you, Danvers?  Is tossing them over your hip and throwing them onto the mat number one on the list?”  His voice has that almost warm, almost smiling tone again.  I look up at him, practically towering over me in his sexy formal suit.  He’s glancing down at me, his golden eyes catching mine.  His lips almost tip up.  I really have to go shopping for more underwear.  He’s making a mess of mine. 

“You’re hilarious, doc.”  I try to say it without emotion, but I can’t.  I smile when he cocks his eyebrow, and bite back a laugh. 

“Thanks for noticing, Danvers.  Is flattery somewhere on that list?”  He leans forward just a little, and looks at the magazine, but I close it and quickly toss it on the table behind him. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply as I roll my eyes.  “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”  That suggestion _is_ on the list, but I’d never tell him that. 

“Don’t feel like getting your ass handed to you again?” he mutters almost under his breath. 

“I have a few questions,” I start.

He interrupts, “Only a few?”  His eyes are all sparkly again.  He hides his emotions so well, but I think they actually come out in his eyes.  Even if he is trying to hold them back. 

I smile again, knowing that I’ve found yet another chink in his armor.  I stayed up all night thinking about Dr. Yon, mostly in ways that I shouldn’t have.  Partially because my ass was still sore and I couldn’t get comfortable.  Even when I was thinking about the MiGs, and Top Gun, my thoughts led back to him.  I want to know what he feels.  I want to fight like he fights.  And I want to know what he knows. 

“What do you know about the MiGs?” I ask, point blank. 

He glances around, and steps back.  “Let’s go into my office,” he says, and sweeps his hand toward the open door. 

I stand to follow him, trying not to stare at his arms.  How does he hide his huge biceps under the blue-gray suit jacket?  He’s wearing a different double breasted waistcoat, this one in a lighter color than his jacket, and trousers that match.  He is blazingly hot.  Like nine alarm fire kind of hot.  And before we’re even in his office I exclaim, “Are you single?” 

He stops walking, and takes a deep breath.  “Yes, I’m single.” 

Now I have even more questions.  The next comes out without me wanting it to.  “How are you single?  Why?” 

“Because I choose to be,” he replies.  There’s something new in his voice.  Something I can’t identify.  Something else I want to unravel about him. 

He quickly ushers me into his office and closes the door.  And again we’re alone.  Why does it have to be in his office? 

“Why would someone as hot as you choose to be single?  Are you gay?  If you are, I’ll…”  He turns, and his eyes on mine silence me immediately.  How is it that he does it so easily when others have only pissed me off by trying to silence me?  Maybe it’s because he doesn’t order me to be quiet, but I can see something in his magical eyes.  Whatever it is, I don’t want to test him, or push him.  I don’t want to _hurt_ him. 

He motions toward the chair I sat in yesterday as he takes his seat behind his desk.  “What do you want to know about the MiGs?”  He changes the subject effortlessly, without answering my question. 

“I want to know everything you know,” I state.  I’ve never been more serious or truthful about anything in my life. 

And he chuckles.  He actually laughs at that.  It’s a warm but raspy sound, as if it hasn’t happened in a long time.  “I have to see a patient in twenty minutes, and I think we might need a little longer than that.” 

“I’m free for dinner.”  It comes out smoothly because I didn’t think about it.  I almost feel bad for how much I’ve propositioned him.  Almost.  Not really enough to stop, though. 

He continues to smile, showing off a row of pearly white, straight teeth that would an actor in a toothpaste ad would be jealous of.  “You don’t know the meaning of the word quit, do you?” 

“Nope,” I admit.  “And I don’t want to know, either.  Just in case you were going to tell me.” 

His smile becomes wider, and he shows that he has a dimple in each cheek.  He’s really quite stunning when he smiles.  Those golden eyes of his shine brighter than any precious metal.  “You are definitely one of a kind, Danvers.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment, even if you didn’t mean it as one.”  My smile grows as wide as his.  “Now tell me what you know about the MiGs.” 

He becomes very serious again.  “I only know what you’ve told me.” 

And for some reason I don’t believe him.  Not that he has a tell, it’s just a feeling.  Like that day on the carrier.  I just know something is wrong.  “You’re not being truthful with me,” I accuse. 

He stares right at me, his eyes flat, his smile completely gone now.  “How could you tell?” he murmurs. 

I cock an eyebrow at him.  “I just could.”  I’ve found another chink in his armor, and I feel like I might be stripping it away piece by piece, whether he wants me to or not.  “Wanna fight, doc?” 

He takes a moment to breathe, and I can see he’s thinking.  I only wish I knew what.  “Sure.  I’ll meet you at the gym at five thirty.” 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying my crossover! So, now we know he's not above telling her untruths... I wonder what else he's not been truthful about.


	9. It's Fun To Lose And To Pretend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading!  
> I'm dealing with some crap computer problems.  
> BACK UP YOUR STUFF PEOPLE!  
> Anyway, if this looks weird it was written on wordpad, so that's why.  
> I hope I haven't misspelled too many words.  
> Thanks again!

 

I arrive early again to "warm up", but it's really just so I can watch him enter the gym. There's something about watching his strong, sexy, dominant walk. He walks like a soldier with his chin up and his shoulders straight, like a confident badass soldier, and it makes my woman parts tingle. He tosses his expensive bag on the same bench he did yesterday, and removes the white jacket he's wearing, showing me his sculpted back this time. And I swear to the gods that I am going to have to change my underwear when I get back to my room. Again.

He's wearing a gray tank that match his dark gray joggers. His ass looks damn near perfect in them, even better than the suit trousers. How is this man single again? How does he have time to meet me at the gym? I'm surprised he doesn't have women lining up at his front door just trying to get a minute of his time.

As usual, I can't stop the thought coming out of my mouth once it's entered my mind. "You like gray. Have a thing for fifty shades?" I ask, with a definite smirk.

He turns toward me, and somehow his front is even better than his back, and that was pretty awesome. This tank top must be slightly tighter than yesterday's, because his chest is a little more prominent. Or maybe I'm just a horndog and I'm noticing it more.

"I like gray because it's neutral, and less intimidating than black." He says it as he walks to the mat, and when he stops in front of me he straightens his spine even more somehow, and stares at me down his straight, perfect nose. "Do you have a thing for fifty shades?" he murmurs in a husky tone that I haven't heard from him. I feel goosebumps cover my arms at the sound. I think he's the first man I've ever met who's done that without touching me.

**_I am so fucked._ **

I might have to fan myself. I have no idea how to get myself together around this man. I might be dismantling his armor, but he's already shattered mine. I'm defenseless, and it's obvious he knows it when he cock an eyebrow at my silence.

"Are we here for another lesson? Or were you just going to stare me into submission?" he says, in that same tone that makes my panties wet. .

Just his use of the word makes my nipples hard. I wonder if he is submissive. "You didn't answer," I point out.

"Neither did you," he replies with his quick wit and a smirk. Even his fucking smirk is sexy as hell. He's won again, and he didn't even try. "Do you want to learn how to bring a man to his knees, or do you want to continue flirting?"

My eyes go wide. He's doing that on purpose. He has to be. There's no way he didn't already practice that in the mirror, and I opened it up to him.

But two can play at that game, I guess. "Please doc, show me what I have to do to bring you to your knees."

His cheeks tinge pink, and his eyes sparkle. He might not admit it, but I'm getting under his skin. "You look a little tired, Danvers. Didn't you sleep well last night?"

He's deflecting, it's obvious. Maybe he's trying to find a way under my skin. He should realize, though, that he's already buried firmly there. "I had a lot of things on my mind," I reply defensively. I feel my knees becoming buoyant, and my hands moving to my sides. I'm moving into fighting posture subconsciously. Well I guess that worked exactly the way he wanted it to.

How the hell does he play me so easily?

"They make medications for that. As your therapist I could prescribe something," he suggests.

And just like that, at the mention of our doctor patient relationship, I snap and attack. I jab, he dodges. I punch with the other hand, but he dodges it too. His reflexes are super human. He chuckles when he catches my fist right out of the air. "You aren't going to get me on the mat like that."

"Teach me damn it," I growl.

"You could talk about what's really bothering you. I heard Lieutenant Rambeau returned home to Louisiana. Why didn't you..." he begins.

I catalog the way he says _Louisiana_ to tell Maria about later. His accent really is charming. But the rest of it, the meaning behind his comment, just pisses me off.

I swing again, a roundhouse with my free hand, but he easily catches my wrist. He stares me down again, and I can practically read what's behind his eyes. I realize he's not here to train me. And he's definitely not trying to get in my pants, because he wouldn't even have to try. No, he's only here for one thing.

To get inside my head.

I jerk back as if he slapped me, and he lets me go. I'm breathing heavy as if I just sprinted a mile. I square my shoulders as I glare at him. His posture softens again, but it's too late. I know what he really wants from me, and no amount of flirting will change it.

"You've probably read my psyche file, doc." I shrug my shoulder and relax my own posture. "Troubled kid. Domineering dad. Manipulated mom. Dismissive brother. I have no one to go home to. Everyone knows. I'm an open book."

His expression changes, and he opens his mouth as if he's about to sympathize or give me some useless psychobabble. This time it's me who silences him with a look. His eyebrows come together at the bridge of his nose, and his eyes widen with emotion. "Danvers, I wasn't..."

I stop him. "Yes, you were. Don't lie. Not about this."

He reaches out his hand as if to place it on my bicep. It would be a friendly, non threatening, non sexual touch, if I'd let him do it. But I take another step back, away from the comfort I'm sure he's offering.

"Thanks for the lesson," I spit out, as I turn my back to walk away.

"You got in," he says in his normal unemotional voice.

I stop, but I don't face him again. "What?"

"Top gun. You're in. They were just waiting on my recommendation. I gave it this morning."

I glance up to the ceiling, shaking my head. I would find out like this. My shining moment, my greatest accomplishment, wrapped in an astounding disappointment.

I try to keep my voice level, unemotional, like his when I say, "Thanks Doctor Yon."

I take a few steps away, but his words stop me again. "I'd like to continue seeing you until you leave for Las Vegas."

My heart bottoms out. I can barely breathe. "As a patient?" I don't need to hear his answer, to know what it's going to be.

"Of course." He says the words I was expecting.

"Of course," I parrot. "No thanks. I'm perfectly fine doc. Better than ever." My voice betrays me. I sound just as miserable as I feel.

And to think, I missed out on seeing Monica for this.

"My door is always open, if you change your mind."

I think about throwing my middle fingers up in the air. But I don't. I just walk away silently. I guess being an adult is just going to have to substitute for a win this time.

I exit the gym with my head high. And later, when I'm on Facetime with Maria, I don't even mention it to her. I gush over the baby, and tell her she's lucky. When she asks me about Doctor Yon, I just shrug my shoulders and act coy. She doesn't need to know my heart was shot down and erupted in flames. Yet again. Maybe I'll tell her about it some other time, when we're both drunk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't had word, and even though I've been thinking about this fanfic I haven't been able to write it out. Having my WIP blown away made me look at it in another light, and I'm glad I did. I think this is going the way it should now, instead of the way I wanted it to. 
> 
> Thanks or reading. Comment if you love it! (or if you hate it)


	10. I'm Only Happy When It's Complicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had so much pent up I had to do another one before bed.  
> Enjoy!

I'm not an alcoholic I remind myself as I take my fourth tequila shot, followed by a gulp of bottled beer.  I laugh out loud afterward, thinking of my miserable fucking luck, and glance down the bar when I hear a male voice laugh with me.  I immediately stop laughing and squint up my eyes at him.  His nametag says _Phillips_.  And the gods know I've never been one to stay quiet. 

"What are you laughing at, Petty Officer 2nd Class Phillips?" I demand, after I stare at him for several moments and he doesn't look away.  He's definitely a six, maybe even a seven. 

"I like the way you laugh, Lieutenant Danvers," he replies with an easy, honest grin.  His accent is Southern, and I bet the smile part of his charm. 

The gods know it wouldn't kill some uptight British assholes to smile like that every once in a while.  But I swore to myself I wasn't going to think about him again.  That's why I'm sitting here in the bar alone, getting drunk like the pathetic loser I am.  To forget about him. 

So I smile at Phillips, but I'm sure it doesn't touch my eyes.  As a matter of fact I feel that my eyes are still squinted up, the look that happens when I'm trying to figure something out, whether I want them to do it or not.  

"Why are you drinking alone tonight, Phillips?" I call down the bar, hopefully loud enough for him to hear, but not so loud that I sound drunk. 

"My girlfriend in Texas sent me a text and told me she met a guy in college.  She wants to stay friends," he answers.  It's refreshing to not have to spar with someone to get an answer out of them. 

Refreshing, and only a teeny bit boring.

"Why are you drinking alone, Danvers?" he asks as he leaves his stool and sits on one a few seats away from mine.  He's close enough that I don't have to yell, but he's also not sitting right beside me.   

I take him in, his nice but common blue eyes, his average brown hair, his nice but ordinary face.  He'll make a decent dad, I think even though I don't know why.  It's just a feeling.  Doctor Yon will make a terrible dad, if he's not already a terrible dad.  He's emotionally unavailable.  He's handsome but aloof.  He's cold and distant. 

He reminds me of another terrible dad, my own.  I wonder if that's why I'm trying so hard.  I couldn't make my dad want me, no matter how hard I tried, so I'm trying to force Doctor Yon to want me.  But he'll never, ever want me as anything more than an interesting patient. 

"Aaahh!" I spit out.  "So many reasons."  I don't want to tell this acceptably cute guy that I'm just one huge failure at relationships.  And the last thing I want to talk about is Doctor Yon.  I don't even want to think about him. 

"I'll buy you another shot if you want.  Or, I could walk you back to your place, if you're finished," he offers.  I know what he means.  More importantly I know what he _wants_.  And it feels damn good to be wanted. 

"I think I'd like that," I reply with another half smile. 

I leave a five on the bar as a final tip and stand up.  Phillips grabs a few ones he's waded up and shoved in his front pocket and drops them.  He places his hand on my bicep as I walk past him.  It's the same thing that Doctor Yon tried to do earlier, but I let Phillips do it. 

And as we walk to my temporary room I think that I'll probably let him do a lot of other things too.  I'll probably do a few things to him too.  And when we're finally inside my room, where I left a lamp on in the corner hoping for just this outcome, I shove him against the wall and stare up at him. 

"Kiss me," I demand. 

He quickly obliges with a low, "Yes, ma'am."  It's cute because I'm an officer, so he's actually supposed to call me ma'am.  And, as we both know, I'm in charge here. 

He tastes like beer, which is fine with me.  I bet Doctor Yon always tastes like mint.  Or maybe Earl Grey tea.  He smells like a high school locker room, all Axe body wash and spray.  Nothing like Doctor Yon's $300 a bottle cologne.  And his tongue is like a wrecking ball, going in everywhere and making a lot of noise. 

I pull away and look up at him with a bit of shock.  I can't believe he's ever had a girlfriend if that's how he kisses.  But beggars can't be choosers, and I'm not going back out looking for another guy tonight.  So I throw myself into it and kiss him again. 

Beer, and salty peanuts.  Wrecking ball.  I'm talking myself out of it.  I'm not _that_ horny.  But before I decide against it he unbuttons my shirt and his hands are just the right amount of rough on my lace covered breasts.  So that's okay.  I help him remove my shirt, and I lean in for another kiss when I hear a knock on my door. 

He freezes up.  He's an enlisted seaman in an officer's quarters.  He might have had a few drinks, but he's not dumb.  I listen for a moment, but don't hear anything more. 

"Don't stop," I almost order.  And after listening for another moment he grabs my tits again.  It's not quite as nice this time.  He's nervous now.  Fuck the asshole who knocked, whoever it was.  Probably someone who got the wrong door. 

 _Knock knock knock_. 

"Damn it," I whisper when he pulls away again. 

"You have a boyfriend?" he asks, after he's already in my room and has my shirt off. 

"No.  Ignore it," I almost whine as I pull his hands back to my chest.  "Someone probably has..."

I hear "Lieutenant Danvers," muffled by the door.  I know who it is immediately.  And then he knocks again. 

_What the hell is he doing here?_

"I should go.  You really are pretty," he says, almost as a consolation as he opens the door. 

Standing on the other side is Doctor Yon, wearing jeans and a long sleeve polo shirt.  Phillips stops suddenly when he sees him blocking the door, and tries to go around him.  Doctor Yon stares at him with his practiced emotionless face. 

"Excuse me," Phillips mutters as he walks around the other man.  When he finally makes it around him, he practically runs away. 

Suddenly the full force of golden eyes are on me.  And I'm standing here in a nude lace bra, my nicest because I intended to get laid, and my white skirt.  Oh well.  I grab the edge of the door and close it just a little, but don't try to cover my almost nudity. 

_Fuck him._

"What are you doing here Doctor Yon?" I question as I stare right into his eyes. 

They're not looking into mine, though.  Oh no.  They've found my breasts and they're laser focused. 

"I came to check on you."  He says it with that aloof, disengaged tone that I hate to like. 

"I'm good.  You can leave now."  I move to close the door, but he reaches out his hand and stops me. 

"You use sex to work out your emotions," he says, reminding me I told him the exact same thing yesterday. 

"Not that it's any of your concern," I point out. 

His eyes find mine finally, and his pupils are huge and the golden irises are swirling with emotion.  "He's wrong, Danvers.  You're not pretty." 

I sigh loudly and roll my eyes.  "Whatever, listen..." I begin.

He pushes against the door a little harder, and I let it go as he throws it open.  "You're gorgeous.  You're captivating.  You're spirited, and tough."  He steps toward me and I step back, before realizing that he's past my threshold.  He closes the door behind him quietly, without taking his eyes off me.  "You're funny, and you're genuine.  You're the perfect woman." 

I'm stunned into silence.  For the first time in my life I have no idea what to say. 

"You're better than this, Carol," he mutters.

"Don't you dare use my name now," I counter angrily.

"I only wish I'd met you under different circumstances," he continues.  He reaches out to touch me, and I flinch.  This is not the time for him to want to be intimate.  I just had another guy's tongue down my throat.  But he doesn't stop.  He takes another step toward me, and sweeps an errant wisp of hair behind my ear.  "You are so very beautiful."

His other hand moves to caress my cheek, as gentle as a butterfly wing.  I exhale a ragged breath and look away, but he captures my cheeks between his hands and tips my head up so that I have to meet his eyes.  My heart is pounding so loudly I'm sure he can hear it. 

"Don't give away what I can't have, at least not here.  Not right under my nose."  His voice is thick with emotion, but softer than I've ever heard it.  His eyes are burning with emotion, and his cheeks are full of color. 

"You could have it.  No one has to know," I whisper, trying to entice him in closer.  I take a step into his body, but he steps back. 

"I'd know."  His voice is lower still, as his eyes focus in on my lips.  "You have no idea how hard this is for me.  The moment I saw you in the bar I wanted you.  Before you sang off key to get my attention I felt you." 

"You can have me," I mutter. 

"You're my patient, and you're drunk."  I open my mouth to argue, but one finger covers my lips to silence me.  "Not to mention you're fifteen years younger than me."

I softly kiss his fingertip and he doesn't pull back.  He sighs loudly and closes his eyes.  His other hand roams over my cheek, his fingertips ghosting over my neck.  I shiver almost violently from the overwhelming sensation.  I feel like I can barely breathe, I want him so badly.   

"Carol," he mutters, eyes closed and lips open.  I've never wanted to kiss anyone more in my life.  I take the last step to close the gap between us, and his eyes pop open.  "I can't.  I'm sorry," he exclaims as if someone walked in and caught us.

He moves quicker than I've ever seen anyone move, and he's suddenly at the door.  "Good night," he says, his eyes still on mine.  Then he's already gone, with a gentle click of the door. 

And I didn't even get to touch him. 

**FUCK!**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if you're enjoying my crossover! Thanks for reading!


	11. Like Jesus To A Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After that mild cliffhanger I struggled about just how Carol would deal with Yon when she saw him again. 
> 
> I hope I did a good job of keeping her in character with the follow up.
> 
> *** I added another paragraph or two at the end. I wanted to start the next chapter with it but changed my mind. It will show up at the begging of the next chapter for a while, but I'll eventually remove it. Thanks for reading! *****

 

 

I wake up with a dry mouth, a raging headache, and a bit of nausea.  And I didn’t even drink that much.  Four tequila shots is like a normal start to the night.  I roll over in the double bed, almost expecting to find someone there.  I could have sworn I picked up a cute Texan.  Maybe he already left.  Or maybe he’s in the bathroom.  I barely lift my head to look toward the bathroom door, and another wave of nausea hits. 

At the same time there’s a knock on the door.  I sit up quickly at the unexpected intrusion, and feel like my head’s about to explode. 

“Go away,” I scream as I pull the covers up over my head. 

There’s another knock, and a loud “Lieutenant Danvers” comes through the door. 

And the voice is unmistakable.  It’s Yon. 

That brings back everything that happened last night.  Picking up the cute Texan in the bar.  Being rudely interrupted by Doctor Yon.  Standing in the doorway practically flashing my tits at him.  Having him invade my room.  Getting lectured: _You’re better than this Carol_.  The way his mouth basically caressed my name.  Getting metaphorically flattened against a wall by his request: _Don’t give away what I can’t have_.  And then furiously masturbating to the thought of sucking his finger into my mouth while he loving spoke my name after he left. 

I touch my stomach and find that yes, I am in fact naked after the marathon finger fucking I gave myself.  I came more than once, more than twice, while moaning his name.  I did go out hornry (horny + angry) last night, just looking for a piece of meat to fuck the thoughts of Yon out of my head.  Then he had to go and show up at my door, in jeans no less which looked absolutely amazing on him, and admit he wants me.  What was I supposed to do, fall right into a pleasant sleep?  Hell no, that wasn’t happening. 

Several much louder knocks fall on my door.  “I’m not leaving, Danvers.  I’ll stand here and knock all day, even if I have to cancel all my patients to do it.” 

He’s such a fucking asshole he would probably do it, too. 

Now I just have to come up with a plan of attack, I realize, as I throw the covers off. 

Do I throw open the door and pull him inside, pull the buttons off his formal three piece suit off with my teeth, and fuck him out of my system?  **Nah.**

Do I open the door naked and tempt him to talk sweetly to me, like he did last night?  **Don’t like that one either.**

Do I act like I don’t remember last night?  I stop with my panties half way up my thighs and think for a moment.  That would mean that he would have to tell me he wants me when I'm sober.   **It could work.**   But am I a good enough actress to pull it off?  I pick up a NIN t-shirt off the chair beside the closet and throw it over my head.  Panties and t-shirt is more modest than naked, and maybe just a tad sexy, right?

I throw open the door with a scowl planted firmly on my face.  “What the hell do you want?” I ask fiercely, remembering the reason I was hornry in the first place. 

His expression shows that he’s a tad surprised by my fury, before he wipes all emotions from his handsome face.  But his eyes are softer than normal, glittering faintly.  He’s obviously trying to keep his tone flat when he speaks.  “How are you this morning, Danvers?” 

I grunt a response, while flipping my hair out of my eyes. 

“I brought you super secret hangover remedies,” he says, as he holds up a stainless travel cup and a brown paper bag. 

“What makes you think I need it?” I grumble.  I also purposefully squint up my eyes.  I hear Maria’s voice in my head encouraging me.  _Good job Care._  

His cheeks turn bright pink, and he looks away.  I bite the inside of my lip so I won’t smile.  “I… um… that is…”  He’s flustered, and I want to dance around in celebration.  His eyes find mine, and he looks afraid.  He looks like he needs saved.  And I couldn’t be happier.  “I stopped by last night to check on you.  Don’t you remember?” 

I shake my head.  But of course I remember.  It’s now tattooed onto my brain.  _You’re gorgeous.  You’re captivating_.  If I ever need a pep talk I’ll replay his words in my head. 

He stares at me for several moments, as if he’s trying to decipher me.  Then he seems to shake it off as he takes a deep breath.  “Well you were drunk,” he says, as if to explain it away.  He holds up the bag and the cup again.  “May I come in?” 

I shrug my shoulders, and open the door.  I don’t want to play too hard to get.  I do want him to get me, even if I am mad at him.  That might make it better.

His eyes flit over my room, taking in the messy bed and the clothes I wore last night strewn over the floor.  Then they return to me.  They roam over my body, focusing in on my tits before sweeping downward to take in my bare legs.  I can feel my nipples getting hard, and my panties getting wet.  I see another masturbation session in my future, probably in the shower after he leaves. 

He makes his way toward the small table near the chest of drawers.  He sits it down and begins placing it all out on the table. 

“What did you bring me?” I ask as I follow after him.    

He almost jumps when he notices how close I am.  “Tomato juice for lycopene, pickles for sodium, scrambled eggs for the amino acids, and plain yogurt to help your stomach.” 

As he points each out, I notice that they’re in plastic bowls you’d use at your house.  He brought these from his house.  He made me scrambled eggs.  He opens the lid and I find more tomatoes sliced on top.  I wonder if he juiced the tomatoes too. 

I’ve never had a man take care of me, or make me breakfast.  Usually I sneak out before morning, or kick the guy out right after sex if it’s in my own bed. 

“Thanks,” I mutter as I take a seat.  He grabs a fork and several napkins from the bag.  I guess he knew I wouldn’t have any of that stuff here. 

“You’re welcome,” he says, as he takes the seat across from mine.  He’s sipping on coffee, and it smells amazing. 

I look around for mine, but don’t see any.  “Why didn’t I get coffee?” 

“It’s a diuretic.  Not good for a hangover,” he says as he blows on the fragrant liquid.  It’s piping hot, I see steam coming off.  It all feels very domestic.  I wonder if this is what it’d be like to wake up with him. 

I shiver as I think it, and I think my nipples are probably hard enough to cut glass.  I watch as his lips pucker up, and blow, and it might be the worst torture I’ve ever experienced.  But I’m enjoying it. 

“Eat up while it’s warm.  After you’re finished we’ll go for a run.  Exercise and fresh air are good for a hangover.” 

My insides are doing flips.  I’m still mad, but the tone in his voice makes me want to do what he tells me to.  I’ve never liked being bossed around by men, but I tolerate it in exchange for flying.  With him, though, I don’t mind it. 

I dig in hungrily.  “It’s good,” I admit, with a half chewed mouthful of eggs.

He almost grins and shakes his head.  _Incorrigible girl_ flashes across his face.  But his eyes are soft and warm, and his cheeks are pink.  He’s so handsome, and now he’s showing me he’s a good caregiver too. 

I feel my thighs tighten under the table, but I just keep eating. 

*****

I couldn’t get myself off, not with him sitting in my room.  I threw on my workout clothes without taking a shower.  I’m going to get sweaty anyway, and besides that I just feel weird having him sitting in my room.  I wouldn’t think he’d go through my things, not that I have many personal items but still. 

I come out of the bathroom and he’s cleaning up, repacking the items into the bag he brought them in.  I stop and stare.  Watching his domesticity makes me want to keep him.  He could definitely take care of me, and the gods know I need it. 

Plus he’s wearing joggers again, and his ass is fantastic.  I could watch it all day. 

“Are you watching me, Danvers?” he asks smoothly, before turning around. 

How in the hell did he know?  “No!  Wow, conceited much?”

“Get used to the view because it’s what you’re going to see on our run,” he says with a smirk. 

I’m not going to _let_ him beat me, not even to get a great view of that ass. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think about how I tied up the loose ends from the last chapter!


	12. If you walk away, I will follow.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. Hope it's worth it!
> 
> *** I added another paragraph or two at the end of the last chapter. I wanted to start this chapter with it but changed my mind. It will show up at the begging of this chapter for a while, but I'll eventually remove it. Thanks for reading! *****

Maria decided to stay for the three weeks she’d been allotted since we’ve been accepted to Top Gun.  Tomorrow I’ll grab an Air Force flight to join her, and I’ll stay for a week before returning to spend another week in San Diego before heading to Nevada. 

For more than a week Yon has been waking me up with protein shakes and omelets.  Most of the time he eats with me, bringing everything he’ll need to my small room, then he cleans up afterward while I’m getting dressed for our run.  We’ve also had our sparring sessions at 5:30 every evening.  We still haven’t had dinner, and I remind him I’m available every evening.  It’s become more teasing than serious in the past few days, although I wouldn’t tell him no if he asked.  But he still hasn’t.  We’ve fallen into a comfortable comradery.  I enjoy having him around, and even though I obviously want more, I’ve accepted he can’t and I respect his decision most of the time. 

I’m almost sad that I’ll be leaving him.  I’ve gotten used to seeing his handsome face first thing in the morning.  And although I still haven’t landed a punch, I really do enjoy his lessons in the evening.  I fall asleep easier than I ever have.  But with the easy sleep has come bad dreams, and they always focus on Maria during the dogfight.  In my dreams the MiGs lock on to Maria and fire their missiles, and I watch as her plane explodes.  I know it’s not true.  I know Maria is safe in Louisiana with her parents and Monica.  But still, I can’t get over the feeling that I could have lost her. 

I can’t imagine what my life would be if I didn’t have her. 

Today, though, he notices that I’m a bit quieter than normal and asks, “What’s the matter, Danvers?” 

I approach him from behind.  I don’t waste the chance to get an eyeful of that ass, either.  I’d love to see if it’s just as soft and firm as it looks.  “Nothing,” I reply, even though it’s not true. 

He turns to look at me, catching my eyes with his and not letting go.  “You’re not being truthful with me,” he tells me curtly. 

I scoff when I hear my own words thrown back at me.  “How could you tell?” I ask, with just a hint of a smile parting my lips. 

He shrugs, and doesn’t continue the conversation we had a week ago.  “I can see the difference in you.  You aren’t as peppy.  You don’t have the spark I’ve grown to like so much.” 

“I’ve been having…”  I begin to tell him, before I stop myself.  As long as he continues to see me as his patient there won’t be anything more between us.  Am I okay with that?  Can I continue to be merely his patient, and maybe his friend?  I stare into his golden eyes and realize it’s not my choice.  It’s his.  He’s in control because it’s his ass on the line.  I exhale loudly, and decide if I can’t have sex with him, I might as well take advantage of his skills outside of the bedroom.  “I’ve been having nightmares, of Maria being shot down by the MiGs.  Sometimes I see her screaming at me for help just as the missiles make contact.  It’s the worst feeling I’ve ever experienced.” 

“That’s terrible, Dan—“ he starts.  I inhale a sob, and look down toward my running shoes.  He takes a step toward me.  “Carol,” he whispers.  He places his finger under my chin and gently lifts my eyes until I’m looking at him again.  “Carol you didn’t lose your friend, and you won’t.”  His fingers ghost over my jaw, before pushing my hair over my shoulder.  “It’s only a dream.” 

I nod as my eyes fixate on his lips.  I want to kiss him, and I realize it’s going to be hard as hell to only be his friend.  But I will be, if that’s all I can get. 

He takes another step, and suddenly his lips are on mine.  It’s light and gentle, and also firm and honest.  His lips are just as soft and warm as I thought they’d be.  And the kiss makes my insides melt.  I feel gooey, and hot, and so much tingling between my legs.  As much as I would like to, I don’t deepen the kiss.  I want him to feel comfortable, and the only way to do that is to allow him to control it.  But I want to.  I want to grab him and throw him down on my bed and do everything I want to do until he’s begging for it. 

He touches my bicep, right under the sleeve of my Navy t-shirt.  His warm fingertips make my nipples hard.  I want so.  Much.  MORE. 

But instead of taking it farther he steps back, breaking the kiss.  I part my lips and breathe in, almost begging him for more, longer, deeper.  Anything! 

“Was that okay?” he asks, his voice soft and sweet. 

I nod slightly, without looking into his eyes.  I’m afraid he’ll see the lust and desire burning deep inside me.  But I’m terrified I won’t find them in his. 

“Let’s go run.  The fresh air will be good for you,” he assures me, as he pats my arm before he turns toward the door.  I follow him eagerly.  I probably always will. 

Yes, I am _soooo_ screwed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Don't forget to leave lots of love in the form of comments and kudos! :-D


	13. Hysteria When You're Near

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucky number 13!!!
> 
> <3 <3 We're almost there peeps! Show me some love! <3 <3

 

He’s pointed out his place when we’ve ran through the staff housing, so that’s like an invitation, right?  It’s the white townhouse, he’d said, at the end of the street.  I hope I’ve got it right, because someone’s going to be really pissed if I ring their doorbell at four A.M. and it’s the wrong house. 

I psych myself up to knock.  I get up the nerve.  I wouldn’t do this, because he trusted me with the information and I wouldn’t violate his trust, but tonight’s dream was different.  Monica was sitting in Maria’s lap when the missiles hit, and I am beyond freaked out.  It just felt so real. 

I approach the front door, and before I can change my mind I hit the doorbell.  I pace back and forth several times, before I decide to leave.  This was a stupid idea.  I turn around to walk away when I hear the door open. 

“What the hell Danvers.  You know what time it is?” he asks, his voice dark and husky with sleep. 

I move to face him, and I almost can’t speak.  He’s wearing beige pajamas, barely.  The shirt is wide open, as if he dressed in a hurry, showing a little more of his chest than I’m comfortable seeing since I can’t attack him. 

“Can’t sleep,” I mutter, my hormone flooded brain barely able to put together words.  What are words?  His chest is hairy, manly, and so sculpted.  I’d guessed it would be seeing hints of it in his workout tanks, but this is… Speechless. 

“There are pills for that,” he counters.  Oh, that voice, that accent, will be the exquisite death of me eventually. 

“Then I’d be sleeping,” I mumble.  Shouldn’t I be sleeping?  It’s four o’clock in the morning.  “Wanna fight?”  Maybe I should ask if he wants to run, or go for coffee.

He sighs, but he doesn’t look at me like I’m an unruly girl as he normally does.  He’s not mad either.  He seems almost happy, almost _satisfied_.  “Come in,” he says as he steps away to hold the door open. 

I try not to smile as if I’d just won an unspoken contest between us.  A large mirror hangs over a functional table on the opposite wall of his short entry.  Underneath is a small shoe cube, which holds a pair of shiny black shoes and his expensive running shoes.  A bowl holds keys, change, and his wallet.  Everything he needs to head out the door is well organized and dust free.  It suits him. 

“Want a glass of warm milk?” he offers as he closes the door.  I nod, and follow as he walks around me into the living room.  It’s dominated by a dark brown leather sectional sofa, which faces a wood fireplace.  There’s wood in it, stacked neatly to look pretty, but I’m sure he’s never used it.  An average sized TV hangs on the wall to the right, and if he lay on the long end of the sofa he’d have a good view of it.  For some reason I don’t think he watches a lot of television. 

He leads me to the kitchen, and it is just as utilitarian as the rest of the house.  Spotless, and nothing out of place.  Wood and metal utensils are gathered in a silver holder.  I’d swear he’s never used the kitchen if he hadn’t brought me breakfast every morning for a week. 

He opens the fridge, and it’s well stocked with vegetables, milk, and yogurt.  There’s no soda, no wine, nothing _bad_ for you.  He has to eat healthy to have a body like that.  He’s absolutely perfect, and it makes my uterus ache.  I can’t do it anymore.  I can’t pretend I don’t want him, _need_ him.  And I can’t act like I don’t know he wants me too. 

“You know when I can’t sleep, I…” 

I shove him against the wall.  He exhales loudly but says nothing.  His lips are parted slightly, and he’s almost panting.  Damn, he’s so fucking sexy.  Everything about him makes me want him.  My hands are against his strong shoulders, not holding him there because I know if he wanted to escape he would.  I also know he wants this just as much as I do. 

My eyes drink him in.  The golden eyes that I still haven’t gotten used to, even though I’ve seen them every day, rounded in surprise.  His perfectly shaped nose.  His beauty marks on his left and right cheek, and the freckles across the bridge of his nose.  His soft pink lips.  The smart cleft in his strong chin.  The hint of a beard because he hasn’t shaved yet this morning.  His tousled light brown hair that perfectly complements his honeyed eyes. 

“You’re gorgeous,” I whisper, as my eyes focus on his lips.  “You’re captivating.  You’re spirited, and-“

“You remember,” he mutters.  After he says it his tongue snakes out to wet those perfect lips.  I almost smile.  He groans and closes his magical eyes.  “How long?” 

“I didn’t forget,” I admit. 

“And you didn’t take advantage of my feelings,” he continues. 

“Of course not.”  I try to keep my voice light, but it’s impossible.  I hear the lust in my own voice, so I’m sure he does too. 

His eyes open and I feel the full force of his emotions.  They flood over me and through me and I shiver intensely. 

“Kiss me Carol,” he demands, as if his life depends on it.  I take a step forward, up on my tiptoes, and touch our lips together.  We did this yesterday morning, but I want to savor it.  I want to savor the feel of his lips against mine, of his strong body against mine.  My hands move down from his shoulders, over his clavicle and down his sternum.  His entire body quakes under mine.  It’s heady, powerful, knowing the strength he has, to be able to make him tremble. 

I enjoy it for several moments, basking in our shared emotions.  Until I want more again.  I’m almost hesitant.  I’m almost afraid to take more, even though I know he asked for it.  So I pull back slightly, to ask if it’s okay. 

But he doesn’t let me go.  He cradles my head in his hands, his short fingernails raking against my scalp, and pulls me closer.  That’s when I feel his tongue against my lips, pressing, pushing, asking for entry.  I eagerly part my lips and draw it in. 

There’s no awkward dance, no fight for dominance.  He knows what he’s doing.  His confidence and self-assurance doesn’t end on the mat.  His tongue sweeps in, massaging the roof of my mouth before pulling away to rub the underside against mine. 

My fingers aren’t still.  I explore his chest, touching hair, skin, nipples.  As tightly buttoned down as he normally keeps himself, he doesn’t hold back his reactions to me.  He moans deep in his throat, and rolls his hips against mine until I feel his erection.  It feels thick, and hard, and I want him even more.  My feminine muscles contract with need.  But I want this too.  This exploration of him is everything I’d hoped it would be. 

I nip at his tongue, at the same time I pinch his hard pink peaks, and he growls.  It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.  His tongue thrusts deeper into my mouth, and he shoves me against the fridge.  I feel a whoosh of cool air before it closes from the force of us.  It’s his turn to explore, his fingers moving down my neck so softly I whimper.  They trail over my chest slowly, until I moan.  I guess he takes that as permission, and takes my breasts in his big hands.  I almost fall to my knees, but his hips trust again and somehow keep me upright.  He circles, and kneads, and grabs, before he flicks his thumbs over my hard pebbles. 

“Uh huh,” he somehow mutters when I groan into his mouth.  I feel a knee between my thighs and I part them.  He somehow snakes down and shoves up until I’m practically resting on his strong thighs.  My hips wiggle, feeling his hardness against my most sensitive spot.  I want him, and I’ll be damned if he stops after this.  If he doesn’t fuck me I’ll spontaneously combust. 

His palms move down over my ribcage before he grabs my hips and pulls them higher.  I wrap my legs around his waist, and he shifts my weight until he has me right where he wants me.

He’s carrying me toward the steps when he breaks our ravenous kiss to ask, “Is this okay, Carol?”

“Yes,” I reply earnestly.  But it’s better than okay.  It’s like a fantasy come true. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to show the love for these two (and me!) Kudos and comments!


	14. I Could Stay Awake Just To Hear You Breathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *****NSFW***** 
> 
> Just a warning lol... Hope you're ready for it!

 

“I can’t wait to get you undressed, Carol.  I’m going to kiss every inch of your lovely body.  Do you want that?”  He’s murmuring his words against the crook of my neck as he carries me up the steps to the second floor of his townhouse.  I guess it’s probably important to be able to see where he’s going.  And I trust him completely. 

His words and his voice are causing an avalanche of sensations inside me.  I’m sure I’m shaking so hard he can feel it.  One hand gently rubs up and down my spine, almost soothingly. 

“You want that, don’t you?” he asks as he steps through a door, and I’m in his bedroom.  He’s left a light on somewhere, probably from being startled out of sleep so early.  It’s nice to be able to see him, since I’m hoping he’s going to be naked soon.  “Tell me you want it, Carol.” 

He places me on his bed, and I could look around but I only have eyes for him.  He moves away slightly, to remove my shoes and socks.  He tosses them aside, which I’m sure he never does with his own things. 

He’s standing between my calves, gazing down at me with a foot in each hand.  He’s massaging the balls of my feet with each thumb, and I can’t stop the purring sound that escapes my lips. 

“That sounds like you want me.  But I want you to say it, treasure.”  His eyelids are heavy, his lips are parted, and his dick is practically tenting his joggers.  But he’s worried about me, making sure I’m okay with what’s about to happen.  And he called me _treasure_.  Fuck this man is enough to make my insides boil. 

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” I whisper.  If he wasn’t massaging my feet I’d sit up and kiss him, or squirm away and pose suggestively.  But damn, no one’s ever done this to me, and it feels so calming, and sweet, and also sexy as hell. 

“Tell me,” he practically begs, as he kneels down and kisses my toes. 

I hiss an inhale.  “Yes please, Yon.  I want you.” 

“Perfect,” he murmurs as his hands move up my legs, while also tugging on my sweats to pull them off. 

I arch my back and thrust my hips to help him, and in a few moments my pants and panties are gone and my bottom half is bare to him.  Is it a bad thing that I really wish I’d showered and shaved before I came over here?  I didn’t expect this to happen.  I didn’t expect to get to see his bedroom, much less be lying in his bed. 

It’s like he’s been holding his real self back under his button down shirts, waiting on this moment to set the animal inside him free.  His mystical eyes nearly glow, what little can be seen around the exploded pupils.  I shudder from the kinetic energy I’m feeling coming off him.  He leans forward, and almost immediately his mouth covers my center. 

The jolt of pleasure that racks through me causes my back to jerk off the bed, and my first thought is to grab onto something.  My fingers twine through his hair and ball into fists, without me really meaning to.  He hums a soft “Umhmmmm,” against my sensitive skin, sending thrills throughout my entire body.  Next his tongue flicks against my clit, and my eyes go back into my head as I moan loudly.  Then his lips fix around it, and he sucks gently. 

“Yes!” I exclaim when I feel a shockwave of ecstasy pulse through me.  I’ve never felt anything like this.  The guys I normally pick up in bars aren’t usually this interested in my pleasure.  _But he’s a man_ , a voice inside my head reminds me. 

At the same time all of this is happening, I feel two fingers press inside me.  I spread my legs and tip my hips up for him.  “Ummmmm,” he moans, and it reverberates through all of my nerve endings.  His fingers find my g-spot and he massages it almost ruthlessly, even as I wiggle away from it.  It’s too much, it’s too intense.  It’s too everything. 

My muscles clench up, all of them.  My entire body seizes up like one big charley horse.  My hips are probably three inches off the bed.  But he doesn’t stop.  He taps against that spot, and French kisses my clit until I’m mindless.  He moans again, deep in his chest. 

The crescendo hits, contractions explode inside me, and I think I black out momentarily. 

When I’m aware of what’s going on around me again, I feel his hands on my hips moving me up the bed.  He makes sure my head is on a pillow, making sure I’m comfortable.  His fingertips brush my hair away from my face, as he gazes down at me. 

“Did you enjoy that?” he has the nerve to ask me. 

I giggle at the absurdity of his question.  He smiles down at me warmly.  Dare I say _lovingly_? 

“Carol you’re so beautiful it hurts my heart.”  His voice is soft, pure, affectionate.  His eyes glitter with emotion. 

And I’m more relaxed than I’ve ever been.  He pulls the cover over me, tucking me in to his bed.  Then he snuggles up against me, and I feel his dick hard and thick against my hip. 

“Mmmm Yon,” I mutter around a yawn.  “You’re still hard.”  I move against it, wanting – no _needing_ it inside me. 

“I’ll still be hard in an hour or so when you wake up.  Go to sleep treasure,” he whispers against my ear before he kisses me gently. 

“But…” I begin. 

“Sleep love,” he orders. 

Great.  How in the heck am I supposed to sleep with the thing I’ve wanted for a week is _right there_? 

But I close my eyes, and listen to his breathing and heart beat.  And I’m so tired. 

I yawn again, and smile as I wiggle just a little closer. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed it! If you did let me know!


	15. You Let Me Penetrate You.  You Let Me Complicate You.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *** NSFW!!! ***
> 
> I felt I needed another warning.  
> And the only thing I can blame this on is WAY too much A/B/O. Sorry?

I’m in my Grizzly flying over the Mediterranean.  There’s nothing I love more than being in the clouds.  I hate to say it but if there was a choice between keeping Maria and Monica and flying, I’d choose flying.  I was born for this. 

“How you doing?” I ask Maria over the comms. 

“Feels like home,” she replies.  I can hear her smiling.  I know that if she had to choose between me and flight, she’d choose flight too.  It’s in our blood.  It’s one of the reasons we get along so well.  Deep down we understand each other. 

I glance over, through the clouds, and see another plane flying next to me.  Its long pointed nose and distinctive camo paint job give it away.  It’s a MiG.  And it’s close enough that I can see into the cockpit, and make out the pilot.

It’s David Yon. 

He grins at me before he slows down so we can pass him.  Next thing I know Maria’s plane is blowing up beside me, and David Yon’s MiG flies past. 

 

 

I wake up with a start. 

“Shhhhhhh,” I hear from beside me, which makes me jump even further.  I’m in an unfamiliar room that is a little too clean and aesthetically pleasing. 

The sheets are very soft but not slick like silk, and they’re a fresh eggshell that compliments the thick café au lait colored comforter.  The floors are shiny wood, and a direct contrast to the reclaimed wood headboard on the bed.  The walls are a dark ivory and have a grainy pattern in the paint.  A rack beside the window holds a vest, jacket, a smart hat and several ties.  Gauzy cream sheers let in the early morning light, and I can actually see the ocean in the distance. 

“You’re okay, Carol.  You’re safe,” a sleep heavy dulcet voice assures me. 

I breathe deeply, and glance over my shoulder.  And there’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen, wearing beige sleep pants and no shirt, hair ruffled and cheeks pink.  The room somehow compliments his golden eyes, as if he chose everything in it to reflect the light toward them.  They sparkle and shine like I’ve never seen before. 

 _Is it because he’s looking at me?_ I wonder in the back of my mind, someplace I’ll keep completely private until I see Maria and we’ve drunk three bottles of wine. 

Memories of last night come rushing in, and I touch my thigh without looking away from his enchanting eyes.  Yes, I really am naked from the waist down.  Doctor Yon really did eat me out until I screamed. 

“Did you have another nightmare?” he asks, as he reaches his hand out to me.  He doesn’t touch me, but he lets me know he’s here with me right now, and wants to touch if I’ll let him. 

“Yes,” I murmur.  I move my hand closer to his on the bed. 

His chest, shoulders, and arms are wrapped tightly in corded muscles so thick I want to bite into him.  His abs are flat and defined, and he has a lovely dark treasure trail leading my eyes down his body.  Fuck if he’s not the perfect male specimen I don’t know what is. 

“How can I help?” he asks, his usual high-class British accent dark with longing.  Desire rolls off him, so rich and sweet I can almost taste it. 

I roll toward him at the same moment he rolls away, onto his back.  He would never allow us to be in this position on the mat, submissively surrendering himself to me.  His hands are even bent at his sides, palms up.  His chest shakes from a deep breath, and his bottom lip quivers as I straddle his slim hips. 

I bite my lip as I seat myself firmly on his middle, and wiggle my hips when I feel his cock against me, separated only by his thin pajamas.  I think my heart stops momentarily.  Gazing down at him as he offers himself to me is a rush that only equals soaring through the sky. 

“Take me, Carol,” he begs me.  “There are condoms in the…”

I lean forward and kiss him, demanding he open his mouth for my tongue.  I taste mouthwash and my own juices in his mouth, and I groan from it.  I push my chest against his.  The contrast is exciting, I’m nude down below but still wearing the GnR t-shirt, and his chest is warm and bare.  I want to feel it. 

I lean back only long enough to pull the shirt and running bra off, and when I am against him again it’s skin on skin.  My hands grab his, and he twines our fingers together.  He’s so manly, hairy, warm, and so muscular.  I want to melt into him and never leave. 

He allows me to set the pace for several moments, rubbing my nude body into his as if I can scent him to deter other women.  At this moment I would destroy a bitch if she even glanced at him.  He allows me to take my fill of his mouth, his body, until I’m whimpering as I rub myself along his length. 

That’s when he rolls me over and thrusts his hips, allowing me to feel every thick inch of him.  I’m mewling into his mouth now, and it’s so loud I know he hears it. 

“Umhmmm,” he moans, encouraging me.  I tip my hips up, and he grinds his into me. 

_Fuck, how long is he going to keep me here like this, on edge and begging to feel him inside me._

If he didn’t still have my hands I’d be clawing at his back, or grabbing his waist.  But he does.  He has me right where he wants me, and I can feel it.  And it feels incredible.  I am at his mercy, and I can’t do anything but moan and wiggle against him. 

He pulls away from our kiss abruptly to growl, “Tell me you want this Carol.” 

“God yes.  Please, Yon,” I beg. 

His eyes are that of a wild creature, a jungle cat, when he looks into mine.  His smile is a dirty twisted thing when he says, “You’re amazing treasure.”

He moves onto his knees in the same fluid motion he pulls down the cotton pants.  It’s just as thick as I knew it would be, and hard, and an angry red.  I’ve never had this thought before, but I want to taste him so badly, like I need to have his cum in my mouth to live. 

But not now.  Now my center aches it’s clenched so tight from his teasing.  He’s not the Doctor Yon I’ve grown so fond of.  He’s a dark magnetic creature that I know could keep me safe, at the same time he kept me wherever, and however he wants me.  And I would willingly do his bidding.

My chest hurts from all the feelings he’s ripping out of me right now.  Sex for me has never been about needing the other person, it’s always been something to scratch an itch.  But damn if he’s not making me realize that I could not let him go now, I would fight for him, for this.  And he looks like he would tear a man to shreds for me too. 

“Condom, treasure?”  His voice is full of forbidden sin when he asks it. 

As women we’re supposed to protect ourselves, from disease and pregnancy.  But I have the hormone IUD, and he probably knows I’m clean.  And knowing him as I have this past week I have to believe he doesn’t have casual sex.  But he is in bed with a soldier and a patient, and I don’t know that I’m special as bad as I want to be.  He must see the doubt in my eyes. 

“I will respect your decision,” he purrs.  He releases my hands, and he quickly leans toward the bedside table to grab a condom.  And before I can release the breath I’m holding, he has it on. 

My first instinct is to close my eyes to protect myself from being taken, when I’m with anyone but him.  But my eyes are wide open, watching as his hips sweep forward.  I gasp, then growl as he nearly tears me apart.  I’m far from virginal, but he’s so much bigger and thicker than average.  And he’s watching my reaction, as my eyes grow wide and my mouth falls open, and I try my hardest to breathe. 

_Just breathe._

“You like it?” Yon demands.  It’s not even a question.  It’s a statement.  He knows how he’s making me feel.  This cocky, sexy man is not what he portrays to the public.  This man is mine, and I’ll be damned if I’m letting him get away now. 

“I love it,” I whisper as I tip my head up to him, wordlessly asking for another kiss. 

“You’re so tight for me, and so wet.  So good,” he assures me, as his eyes scan down over my body, to where we’re joined together.  “So perfect for me, love.”

I wrap my legs around his waist, and brace my hands on his strong biceps, and move up to him.  As he withdraws I chase, as he thrusts forward I grind.  The tip touches my g-spot like his fingers did last night, and I’m gone. 

The noises I make are unholy, and the purring and growling from deep within him are animalistic.  “Fuck,” he groans as he moves somehow even deeper into me.  “Fuck yes, treasure.”  I’m not prepared when he covers my body with his, takes my shoulder into his mouth, and bites down as his entire body shakes. 

It’s ecstatic pleasure mixed with pain, and I lose myself with him.  “Yon,” I cry out, when the pleasure finally crashes into me. 

We both still move through our orgasms, both still chasing the high for several moments, until we are each still with the other.  The only sound is our breathing. 

When his body finally settles, and his teeth release my flesh, he licks at the mark before he breathes one word into my ear.  “Mine.” 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! Show me some <3 <3 with kudos and comments!
> 
> I felt like I should link to NIN Closer... But I'm not sure that's "okay". Anyway, if you want, go listen. There's a clean version. I feel like it's extremely appropriate for these two. Coming together. Like animals. (What even was that! I'm sorry???)


	16. I Wanna Drink From Your Naked Fountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What would Carol and Yon do when they've finally given themselves over to their desires and actually finally have sex?
> 
> Why, have more sex, of course!
> 
> Another ***NSFW*** chapter, only because I know they would.

He rolls off me, but his hands are still reaching out to touch me.  It’s reassuring, and comforting.  He’s not leaving me, it tells me.  He’s not going anywhere.  But he’s very quiet.  He’s not even breathing heavy. 

I roll over onto my side, to make sure he’s okay.  He’s lying on his back, but his head is to the side and his eyes are on me.  I could wrap his hand in mine, but I decide to occupy my hands on other parts of his skin.  His abs are just as hard and taut as I thought they’d be, and his skin is super soft.  He obviously moisturizes more than I do.  It’s extremely sexy. 

“You okay?” I ask gently, as I scoot a little closer to him. 

“Better than you can possibly imagine,” he says.  He reaches out to thread his fingers through my hair. 

“Sorry I messed up your morality thing, or your pledge to not sleep with patients, or whatever.”  I try to fight the smile I’m feeling, but I’m sure it creeps into my eyes. 

“Well we are way past that now, aren’t we?”  His tone is all buttoned down again.  It doesn’t bother me at all.  It’s soothing that he’s still essentially being himself.  “What time is your flight out?” 

“Three o’clock.”  I want to see Monica so bad, but it’s going to be hard as hell to leave this bed. 

“I’ve cleared my calendar.  I’ll drive you up if you’d like,” he offers.  He sounds so sweet and caring, even though he’s still naked and he looks hotter than hell. 

“You’d do that for me?”  I try to sound demure as my hands roam lower. 

He gasps when my palm touches the head.  He’s hard, and wet, and I don’t know when he removed the condom but it’s gone.  I wrap my hand around it, trying but not succeeding in getting my fingers to touch.  Damn he’s thick.  I pull down toward his balls, feeling the foreskin move.  His head lulls back but his eyes don’t close.  He’s watching me for a reaction.  It’s different, but I’m not weirded out or anything. 

“So we have a few hours until we have to get dressed?” I murmur as I move just a little closer, giving myself a better angle for the hand job. 

His pupils are huge, but the sliver of gold still visible sparkles brightly.  I love that I can tell what he’s feeling through his eyes.  I can see he’s beyond bliss.  He licks his lips before he speaks, and he’s trying to keep it together but his prim and proper voice cracks.  “Don’t think you’re going to get me off with your hands.”  The tip of his pointer finger touches my bottom lip as he says it. 

My tongue flicks out against it, and he sighs loudly. 

“You want a blowjob?”  I‘m still trying to sound coy, as if I couldn’t fathom doing something that dirty.  I have, but only with guys who take really good care of me. 

His eyes get even darker when he answers.  “Turnabout _is_ fair play, love.” 

And he’s right, he has given me two spectacular orgasms.  Probably the best orgasms I’ve ever had.  But I’m trying to role play here and he’s not falling for it. 

“Tell me you want it,” I challenge.  My hand moves down his shaft, and my fingertips lightly tease his balls.  My other hand finds a nipple, and I pinch it. 

His hands get busy too.  “I want _all_ of it, love.”  As he says it his fingers part my lips, both sets, before diving inside. 

I grunt and moan at the new sensations.  I’ve never had someone finger fuck my mouth, and his exploration is tentative, but I respond enthusiastically.  I suck, and flick, and massage until he’s groaning. 

“Damn I want my cock in your mouth.”  He hesitates over the words, as if still trying to keep hold of his emotions. 

I grab his balls maybe a little too tight and he inhales sharply.  Then I grab his wrist and force his fingers deeper until my tongue is touching his palm.  I can feel my eyes watering, and I’m trying hard to fight the gag reflex.  His cock is never going that far obviously. 

“Fucking take it before I embarrass myself,” he growls. 

I translate _embarrass myself_ to _lose control_. 

And I’d almost pay money to see that.  But not today.  I think that would snap the trust I’ve worked so hard to gain.  And I think it would hurt him more than he could ever hurt me. 

I pull on his wrist and pop his fingers out of my mouth.  I look right into his eyes as I say, “Maybe not today.  But one day in the future you’ll feel like you can trust me enough.”  I lick my tongue against his lips, and before he can move in for a proper kiss I dive down. 

I smile at him briefly and assure him, “This is what I want,” before I suck as much as I can take into my mouth.  I feel like a snake trying to unhinge my jaw to get even more in. 

I move my bottom half upward so that his fingers are still inside.  He seems unsure of what to do for several moments, as if having his cock in my mouth has turned off his brain.  But after his initial shock wears off he grabs my thigh and pulls my legs apart so he can go after my pussy. 

It’s my turn to groan when he again sucks my clit in.  He’s a fucking pro, and I’d tell him if I wasn’t struggling to handle his meat.  But all I can really do is try, because he’s taking me to that other realm that contains only me and him, while I’m just trying to keep up.  After several moments of focusing only on what’s happening between my legs I realize that he’s working his cock in my mouth while he’s working my pussy with his.  He’s moving his hips just to the point that I can take, at a slow sensual pace. 

I see now that he doesn’t need my help.  I giggle just a little as I tip my head back, and rub his thighs, hips, and stomach with my hands.  He gasps at the vibrations the sound makes, so I continue.  I purr, and moan, and vocalize the climax that’s building inside me. 

He likes it, I can tell.  Or at least I think so.  He’s fingering my pussy and massaging my g-spot like his life depends on it.  My legs are shaking, I can barely breathe, and I think I’m literally past orgasm, past pleasure.  My muscles are so tight I think I might cramp up.  I have no idea how he hasn’t come yet. 

_What is he waiting on?_

I can’t wait any longer.  Somehow I reposition myself until my knees are on either side of his shoulders and I ride.  I wiggle and roll, and grind.  I pop his cock out of my mouth, take it in my hand, and stroke hard and fast. 

“Come damn it,” I squeal, as my muscles finally begin to contract.  I feel fluid gushing out of me, and I can’t control it or stop it. 

He cries out, even though I’m smothering the sounds and probably him too.  I’m shaking from the inside out, but I still feel his body tremble.  And finally I feel his cock throb, and see the white fluid shoot out of it. 

I laugh with abandon, as if I’ve actually accomplished an impossible task.  At the same time he grabs my hips and lifts me off his face.  I know he has the strength to bicep curl my weight now.  And it’s shocking and soothing at the same time. 

“Were you trying to murder me?” he gasps, when my cheek is resting on his thigh. 

“Would you complain if you died that way?” I tease. 

“Not if I go that way when I’m ninety,” he replies in his snobby accent. 

“I can arrange it,” I reply happily.  “If you remind me in forty years.”

“I’m not quite that old Danvers.”  He swats my ass as he says it.  Usually that would be a huge nope, but I’m too satiated to be angry. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stone Temple Pilots Wicked Garden. :) <3 <3
> 
> Thanks for all your super wonderful comments! Please continue to show the love with some likes and kudos!


	17. We'll Walk Upon The Water, We'll Rise Above The Mist.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So here's some pure fluff! :-D

“Come on treasure, we can’t lie in bed all day.”  His voice is actually chipper.  As if he’s happy about it.  As if he’s ready to get rid of me.  Then he bends forward and plants a kiss on the ass cheek he just smacked, before he nuzzles his cheek against the crook of my waist.  It’s a bit annoying with the whiskers, but it’s also nice.  I think I might actually like this affection thing.  Especially when he continues with, “I’ll make you breakfast.” 

He rolls away, and quickly grabs my hips as I move to bury myself under the covers.  I look back at him to protest, and he has an actual smile on his face.  If I die right now the ME would never know my cause of death was a dazzling expression from the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. 

“You don’t want to miss seeing Monica, do you?” has asks gently, encouragingly.  It’s sweet that he’s not looking at me like I’m unruly.  He almost looks like he understands what’s going on inside my head.  “I’ll be here when you get back.”  He nods slightly, then takes a step back.  He’s giving me space, while also letting me know he’s here for me. 

My eyes roam over his body slowly, enjoying every inch of his cut and defined body.  Then he turns around, and his bare ass is just so perfect and round.  How does a person get an ass like that, I wonder?

He walks toward the bathroom, and after several moments I hear the shower come on.  And it reminds me that we’ve had sex and I haven’t peed, which is not good.  So after about a minute I open the door, and see he’s in the shower.  Should I pee here?  Or should I look for another bathroom?

Shit like this is why I don’t spend the night with men.  I don’t understand the rules.  It’s so confusing. 

I freeze when I hear him start singing.  His voice is incredible.  And he’s singing one of my favorite songs, Walk The Moon’s _Shut Up and Dance_. 

“Don’t you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me.  I said you’re holding back, she said shut up and dance with me.  This woman is my destiny, she said ohhhh ohh!” 

“Shut up and dance with me,” I finish. 

The curtain opens, and he grins when he sees me. 

Before he can get all into the song, I break the mood with, “Where can I pee?” 

“There’s a toilet right there,” he says with a shrug, then returns to the shower.  “Get in here when you’re done.  I’ll wash your hair.  You look like you use the shampoos they provide in the guest rooms.” 

“I do,” I mutter.  I gaze at the curtain for several moments, but it doesn’t open.  So I relieve my bladder, and giggle when he grunts after I flush.  Then I throw open the curtain and he’s lathering himself up with one of those poufs.  He’s facing me, and I can’t do anything but gawk and stare. 

“You’re letting the cool air in,” he complains.  As soon as I step in he starts washing me, from my neck over my right shoulder and down my arm.  “I want you to smell like me while you’re on the plane.”

This is a huge difference from the man who wouldn’t even take me to dinner, but I don’t say anything.  I know we already crossed that line.  I know it was mostly my fault.  But it’s still kind of weird that he’s done a complete 180. 

He’s moving me around so I’m standing under the water, and once he methodically washes my entire body he fills his hand with shampoo that smells faintly citrusy.  His eyes are on mine as he washes my hair, his fingers moving deftly but lovingly over my scalp and through the strands. 

“You’ve never had anyone take care of you like this.”  It’s not a question.  He knows it’s true.  I shake my head anyway.  “Let me take care of you.” 

I don’t know how I feel about it.  I’ve never been someone who wants to be taken care of.  I like doing my own thing.  He makes sure my hair is rinsed before he spreads some conditioner through it.  I never use the stuff, but it does smell good.  When that’s rinsed out he grabs the massaging nozzle, and makes sure all the soap is off of both of us, gets the last of the conditioner out of my hair, then hangs it back up before turning the water off.  He grabs a soft fluffy towel and dries me off before he wraps me up in it.  The he wraps another around himself, before exiting the shower. 

He combs my hair out, which is amazingly easy after the conditioner.  He grabs an unused toothbrush out of a package from the closet.  I never keep more than one toothbrush.  It’s a waste of luggage space.  But we both brush our teeth, together, like an old married couple.  He takes his time and is careful, so I have to act like I always do too.  When we’re finished I follow him into his bedroom, and he dresses in clean navy joggers and a white tank top.  I grab the clothes I wore last night off the floor and put them on, which is what I normally do anyway. 

He smiles when I’m dressed, and looks at me like I’m some kind of prize.  I have no idea why.  “You’re so beautiful.  I can barely believe what’s happened between us.” 

I scrunch up my face in shame and glance down at my feet.  He didn’t want this to happen.  It’s his ass on the line if we get caught.  I shouldn’t have constantly teased him.  I should have been more understanding. 

In a second he’s standing in front of me, tipping my chin up so I have to look into his golden eyes.  “Don’t blame yourself.  I wanted this too, maybe more than you did.  I’m not upset.  We’ll figure something out.” 

“Okay.”  But I’m not sure it is.  Now, after it’s happened, I feel guilty.  I shouldn’t have pressured him.  I shouldn’t have…

“Trust me, Carol.  This isn’t your fault.”  He places a kiss on my forehead, takes my hand, and leads me toward the steps. 

How did he know what I was thinking?  How is it so easy for him to read my mind?  How is he so intuitive? 

“My waffles are better than my scrambled eggs,” he says excitedly as we approach the kitchen. 

I wanted this, I remind myself.  I wanted to know his kiss, his skin.  I wanted to find out how it feels to wake up with him.  Why am I the one who’s afraid now? 

“I really should…” I begin, as I release his hand. 

He looks hurt.  He looks completely confused, as if for the first time in his life he has no idea what to say or do.  Then he shutters it behind his normally emotionless expression.  I can literally see him turning on the psychiatrist inside him. 

“I won’t keep you here, Carol.  If you need to go, I won’t stop you.”  It’s his turn to look down and away.  It’s his turn to be unsure and insecure.  “But I do make great waffles, and if you’d like to stay I’ll make enough to share.” 

I look at him unhindered for several moments.  It’s nice to be able to take him in, to ponder at his sandy-brown hair, his iron straight posture, his great ass, his impressive biceps.  His strength, his steadiness, his stability.  But also his tenderness, his caring, his nurturing side.  And it’s _all_ right here, in him.  Waiting for me to decide whether I want it enough to trust him.  To _stay._

“Do you make them with fruit and cool whip?” I ask, trying to add a bit of sass to my voice.  But I just sound hopeful, which isn’t a bad thing.  I need to allow myself to hope. 

His eyes meet mine again, and they’re brilliant.  “I think I have some in the freezer, if that’s how you like it.” 

I smile at him, and give him a nod.  He reaches his hand out for mine and I take it.  We walk into the kitchen together. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is enjoying the fluff! Please show me some <3 <3 with comments and kudos! And as always thank you for your kind words!


	18. What A Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More fluff! Hope you like it!

 

I touch my forearm to my nose subconsciously, almost imagining that I can still smell him on my skin.  But the shower was over twelve hours ago, and I rode on a military plane, been hugged by Maria, cuddled with Monica, had dinner and helped wash dishes afterward.  I know I’m just doing it to reassure myself that this morning really happened, but still I feel the need to do it.  Now Maria and I are sitting on the couch winding down, having a glass of wine. 

Maria has her own townhouse near her parent’s place, and she comes here as often as she can.  When she’s here Monica stays with her.  She knows that she needs the time to bond with her daughter, and that her parents need a break too.  Maria is the most practical, most intelligent, most common-sense having person I know. 

So why am I staring at her like she’s a crazy person right now? 

“I just think that, you know… you’re thirty now.” 

“In two years!” I correct her.

“You’re _almost_ thirty.  It’s not a bad thing for you to think about settling down.”  She sips the wine while eyeing me over the rim of her glass. 

I know she’s yanking my chain, but I still can’t help my voice going up three octaves.  “I’m not thinking about settling down!  I almost panicked when he offered—“ 

Monica lets out a deep sigh, we hear through the baby monitor, and we both freeze.  Her breathing goes back to normal, and mine does too. 

“When he offered me breakfast,” I continue, my voice getting more normal. 

“But you’d eaten together every day for a week,” she reminds me.  She’s still watching me, like I’m about to give a big reveal about something I don’t even know yet. 

“In _my_ room,” I counter.

“That he made for you,” she replies. 

“But I didn’t have to watch him cook it.”  That sounds even stupider out loud than it did in my head.  But watching him actually do all the work felt much more intimate than scarfing down food he’d delivered.  He’s so domestic it should be illegal.  Or it should be required.  I’m not sure which. 

“Were his waffles as good as he claimed?” she questions, scooting just a little closer as if it’s some juicy secret. 

“His cooking is fantastic,” I answer, and her eyes squint up.  And I realize she was setting me up.  “Not even close to as good as yours, though.”  She rolls her eyes and shakes her head.  “I _promise_!” I lie.  Maria is a good cook, but Yon is better. 

“Girl I know when you’re not being truthful,” she tells me.  Suddenly my wine is the most interesting thing in the room as I’m staring into the bottom of the glass.  “I’m glad you met him.  I finally found the right guy for you.”  She even sounds proud about it. 

“ _You_ found him?” I ask, faux stunned. 

“Of course, I saw you eyeing him and _not_ approaching him, and I knew he was the one who would challenge you.” 

“Maybe I don’t want to be challenged.  Maybe I want to be spoiled,” I argue just for the sake of it.  Because I know she’s right.  Half of the reason I wanted him was because he played hard to get. 

She chuckles at that.  “He brings you food.  He washes your hair.  You are spoiled.”  I grin proudly as she says it.  “You might not want to be spoiled, but you like it.”

I down the rest of my glass before I answer.  Yes, I do like it.  But can I be happy with it?  “Is he too perfect?  I think he’s too perfect,” I answer my own question. 

She refills my glass, but she also stares me down.  She’s thinking of how to convince me, I can see it in her eyes.  Apparently she settles on a thought and says, “Only you would complain about dating a guy who was too good.” 

She’s right of course.  She’s always right.  But he didn’t really want to _date_ me to begin with.  He fought against it.  He didn’t want to take me out to dinner.  He only saw me as a patient. 

I shake my head.  “We’re not dating Ri.  We had sex.  That doesn’t mean anything.”  _Not to him_ , I finish in my head. 

She glares at me, with that _I don’t know what to do with you Carol_ look on her face.  She sees that I’m not in a place mentally to process what’s going on with Yon.  So she shrugs and returns to her wine.  “Whatever you want to think,” she comments. 

I bite at my bottom lip idly, thinking of Yon.  He’s everything any woman would want in a man.  He would be the perfect husband.  But I’m not ready to even think about that.  And I’m not even sure he wants me that way. 

“I can’t believe Monica is walking!  It’s been way too long.”  I take a sip as I attempt to change the subject. 

“I shouldn’t let you do that, but I do want to talk about Monica.”  She gives me a wry smile, but she continues to chat happily about Monica’s latest milestones. 

I can’t see myself as a mom, not now at least.  I wonder if Yon wants kids.  I wonder if he _has_ kids.  He’s old enough that he could have three or four ex-wives and half a dozen kids.  But there were no family pictures in his apartment, so I’m probably wrong.  I’m letting my mind get ahead of itself. 

We catch up about Monica, Maria’s parents, and exactly how she broke the news about Top Gun.  And that’s when she notices I’m glancing at my phone, trying to magically make it ring. 

I expect her to mock me.  Instead she gently suggests, “You could call him, you know.  It wouldn’t kill you to make a move.”

“I haven’t even been gone a whole day.  I can live without talking to him.”  I check my phone one last time before I sit it down. 

At that exact moment Monica calls out, “Mama!” 

I sigh into a half-smile as she hurries out of the room.  Then I grab the remote, and begin to channel surf.  I don’t even look at my phone for well over five minutes.  I have this whole not dating thing down. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for all the nice comments. <3  
> I hope you like it fluffy! <3 <3 <3
> 
> Don't forget to leave comments and kudos!


	19. What A Mighty Good Man (Yes He Is)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken so long. I've been wallowing in sadness, but hopefully I'm pulling myself out of it.
> 
> So here, have some lemony flavored fluff!

 

**_Send me a dick pic_ **

Yes, that’s my first text to Yon.  Yes, I am terrible.  But I couldn’t think of anything else witty, or funny, or cute to say to get his attention.  And I knew that would.  And it did.  His response comes quicker than I expected, considering it’s dinner time in Cali.

**_You are a hellion.  :)_ **

At least he ended his rude statement with a smiley face.  I wait five minutes for something more.  Maybe he’ll give in and actually send a pic.  Maybe he’ll send me one of his beautiful golden eyes.  But he doesn’t.  And I’m left wondering what I have to do to yank his chain. 

But… What if he’s out with someone else? 

I can literally hear Maria’s voice in my head telling me to stop thinking that way.  And if he isn’t out with someone else, he should be interacting with me.  And since he isn’t, I’ll just have to try a different way. 

**_Fine i’ll go search the internet for big uncut dicks_ **

**_Why?_** He replies after a minute or two. 

 ** _i need something to rub one out to._** It’s not really true.  I could rub one out thinking about this morning, which was amazing.  But I’d have to be very quiet because I’m on Maria’s pullout couch.  At least both of the bedrooms are upstairs. 

I get a reply in less than thirty seconds.  **_Call me._**  

I chuckle when I see the text, and I wait two minutes before I hit the call button. 

“What are you doing, you wicked girl?” he asks as soon as he picks up.  But his voice is not necessarily sexy.  So I have to ask…

“Are you asking as a psychiatrist, or as my ten o’clock booty call?”  

He lets out a deep sigh, and it sends shivers through my uterus.  I’ve heard that sigh before, while we were in the middle of heavy petting this morning, and it literally rocks my world.  “I’m asking as the man who got very hard at the idea of you rubbing one out, and very jealous at the idea of you looking at anyone else’s dick while you’re doing it.” 

“Ummmmm,” I moan, as I roll over onto my side and squeeze my thighs together.  I immediately feel my muscles contract, as if my body realizes we’re actually going to have phone sex.  “So what would you rather I get off to?” I mutter.  My voice is barely above a whisper, and so thick with desire I barely recognize it. 

He gives me a deep chuckle.  “I’d really like to feel your muscles clench around my fingers again,” he murmurs deeply. 

That shocks me.  I didn’t think he’d fall so easily into dirty talk.  But I should have known better, because he’s extremely sexual.  More sexual than I could have imagined, under those three piece suits. 

Suddenly I have no idea what to say.  My hands seem to know what they’re doing, even if my brain doesn’t know how to react to him.  I’m kind of glad I didn’t put a bra on after my shower before bed, because a thin cotton tank top is the only thing between my fingertips and my nipples.  My muscles clench again, and I feel a soft moan escape my throat. 

“And my dick, of course.  I love the way you feel when I’m inside you, all tight and hot and wet, and also soft and open for me.” 

“Yon,” I moan, as my right thumbnail flicks against my right nipple, while my left hand finds its way into my panties. 

“I went today to get tested, so I can give you the results when you get back.  Because I’m gonna raw you until I come so deep inside you you taste it.” 

“Ohhh yes,” I groan, as my fingernail grates against my clit. 

“I’m so ready to come for you, love.  So put your fingers in your tight pussy, and rock your hips for me.”  I do what he says, and I do feel tight because my legs are closed tight.  “Tell me how you feel love.” 

“You’re so good Yon.  You have me so wet,” I mumble.  I squeeze my nipple tighter, and gasp at the sensation. 

His breathing is deeper, faster.  If he’s not jacking his cock he’s faking it really good.  “Fuck yourself for me.  Come for me.”

“David,” I sigh.  My muscles tighten up.  I want to come, but I’m just on the edge.  I need something to push me over. 

“I’m lying in my bed, and my pillow smells like you, where you squirted all over my face.  I’m rubbing my nose against it, and thrusting my cock into my fist.” 

That’s enough to make me lose it.  “Ung… Ung… Ohhhhhh…”  I growl as my muscles contract. 

“Yes love come for me,” he encourages.  Then he yells, “Fuck!” and I assume he’s found his orgasm too. 

I stretch out, withdrawing my fingers slowly and letting my muscles relax.  “Thank you.  That was delicious,” I tell him, in a tone that is very much like a purr. 

“I think I would give you anything you asked for.”  He’s very calm when he says it, not the least bit angry or resentful. 

“Even a dick pic,” I goad, trying to sound hopeful. 

“But I won’t do that,” he sighs, to the tune of the Meatloaf song.

“You have a beautiful cock.  You should be proud of it,” I continue. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me, you dirty girl.”  I hear water turn on from his end.  I guess he’s cleaning up.  “I really did get tested today.  And if you want, no pressure, we can go without the condom next time.” 

“Thank you.”  The thought is very tempting.  I’ll have to think about it. 

“I hope we talk like this more.  Don’t be afraid to call me in the evenings, love.  I gave you my number for a reason.” 

I giggle.  “So you can get me off before I go to sleep?” 

“I hope I’m the _only one_ you call for that.”  Wow, Dr. Yon has a possessive streak a mile wide, and I might actually like it. 

“Good night Yon,” I whisper. 

“Good night love,” he replies just before the line goes dead. 

I have a huge smile on my face as I close my eyes.  I might really like him calling me love, too.  As a matter of fact, there’s not much I don’t like about him. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone enjoys the "fluff". If you do, please leave comments and kudos! I do enjoy all of your kind words, and I reread them sometimes to get me through the tough days. Thanks again for reading!


	20. Halo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I didn't pick a lyric because the whole song applies. But I think ya'll are all with me on that, right? It's so Carol Danvers. 
> 
> Remember those walls I built  
> Well, baby, they're tumbling down  
> And they didn't even put up a fight  
> They didn't even make a sound

 

I’m reading through my text thread with Yon as I get ready for bed.  And by bed I mean Maria’s pullout couch.  I try not to giggle at the progressively weird comments I make to get his attention. 

My first attempt with the dick pic request wasn’t my greatest, but after that one I took the time to research sex stuff.  I hope to the gods I never lose my phone.

 

**_did you know the Japanese have bars where women can go and test out vibrators while they’re having drinks?_ **

**_Oh?_ **

**_yea, i think i’d like it.  sitting in a bar trying to figure out which dildo gets me off best, with a bunch of people watching.  sounds like fun._ **

**_Call me._ **

 

That night he spent twenty minutes convincing me that his tongue would be better than any vibrator, and that his cock is more than adequate to do the job.  I tried again to get him to send me a picture of it, but he refused. 

The next night’s topic was a little more strange, but his reaction was priceless. 

 

**_did you know that tentacle sex is a thing?_ **

**_What is that even about?_ **

**_apparently it’s about women getting all their holes filled and creamed in_ **

**_Call me._ **

 

That night he warned me that he was going to 69 me while fingering both of my holes until I can’t physically have another orgasm, and then he’d finish it off by coming down my throat.

When I asked him about coming in my other holes, he said he’d need five minutes to rest up and a bottle of water, then he’d shove his hard cock up my ass and he wouldn’t come until I screamed. 

His words not mine. 

But yea, I think I’d like to try it.  Only because that’s the scenario that made him come the fastest. 

Last night’s topic was a bit more laid back, but somehow Yon made it sexy as hell. 

 

**_did you know the most acceptable kink is alternate sex positions other than missionary?_ **

**_Yes, I believe I read that somewhere._ **

**_are you going all doctor yon on me?_ **

**_Would it make you happy if I read it on a porn website?_ **

**_did you?_ **

**_No._ **

**_did you know that male submission was also pretty high on the list?_ **

**_Would you like that love?_ **

**_maybe_ **

**_Call me._ **

 

He told me he’d always had a fantasy about being spanked by his high school English teacher, who coincidentally was blonde.  She was the girls’ soccer coach and she had a very fit body with small breasts and long shapely legs.  He told me he always wanted to bend over her desk and let her spank him.  He said he’d fantasized about crouching under her desk eating her hot pussy while class was in session.  Maybe I’m a secret exhibitionist, but the thought of forcing him to eat me out while other people were around got me off. 

And when I asked if any of it was true, because I might have been slightly jealous of another woman starring in his fantasies, he said he’d gone to an all-boys’ school and all the instructors were men.  I don’t know if I believe him. 

Tonight’s going to be a little different.  We had a very long day with Monica, who had a fever all day.  She would not stop fussing, even after Maria put on her favorite Disney movie _The Lion King_.  She’s apparently trying to cut teeth, and the only thing that would soothe her was fruit popsicles.  So we all loaded up in the car so Maria wouldn’t have to bring the baby inside the store, and I sat in the back and tried my hardest to calm an unhappy toddler. 

 

**_did you know some people pay to have someone cuddle them?_ **

**_Did you have a bad day Carol?  Do you miss me?_ **

 

I’ll be flying back to San Diego in two days, and I don’t know if I want to admit to him just how much I’ve missed him.  I love Monica, and I love Louisiana, but I don’t know... there’s something about knowing he’s waiting for me that’s making my heart pound inside my chest. 

And while I’m still thinking about how to answer him without giving him a humongous ego, I get another message. 

 

**_Call me._ **

 

I smile as I read it.  He didn’t force me to admit my feelings.  He just realized I needed him, and gave in. 

And of course I call him.  Because I do need him tonight.  But I don’t need to get off.  I don’t need the sexual Yon.  I don’t need his fantasies.  I need his caring and nurturing.

His voice is gentle and soothing when he answers, “Hello love.”

“Hi yourself,” I reply, trying to at least sound a little upbeat. 

“How are you?  How was your day?” he asks, as if he really cares. 

I begin to tell him every little detail.  I unload every frazzled nerve, every insecurity, every moment of effort I put into helping soothe Monica, helping Maria with the normal stuff she’d do if she wasn’t rocking a fussy baby. 

He listens silently, seemingly interested.  He doesn’t interrupt, or sigh.  He simply listens.  And when I’m finished he says, “You’re a good friend.  Maria is lucky to have you.  And you’re lucky to have her too.” 

That’s all it takes, and I instantly become a puddle of goo.  I’m on the verge of tears, and I don’t even know why. 

“It sounds like you were introduced to some of the realities of child rearing.” 

Well, that’s obvious.  The whole experience made me decide I never want kids.  But then looking into Monica’s eyes as I rocked her, the complete love and trust that she gave me, made me think twice. 

“You could say that,” I reply. 

“Do you want children?” he asks me. 

I wasn’t really expecting that question, even though it’s a logical one after my rant.  I just didn’t think we’d get into this kind of deep conversations this early on. 

“Do you?” I counter. 

“I asked you first,” he says.  I sigh loudly.  “Fine.  I’ll go.  I wouldn’t say no with the right woman.” 

I bite my bottom lip, trying to contain everything I want to say.  The wicked side of me wants to come out, to tease him.  _What about me.  Am I not the right woman?_

But that would sound desperate.  And I’m not.  Am I?  Maybe a little, for _him._  

“When I see you again, I’m gonna cuddle you so hard.”  He puts on his sensual, seductive voice that always gets me so hot.  “I’m gonna spoon you, and kiss the top of your head until you go to sleep so deep.  You’ve never had sleep like I’m gonna give it to you.” 

His words completely counter his tone.  He sounds the sexiest I’ve heard him, and he’s talking about sleep? 

“I don’t think you really mean sleep.”  I don’t know whether to giggle or moan.  My legs are rubbing together, and my muscles are getting tight, but I’m not touching myself to help it along.  It’s very relaxed, and yet oh so erotic. 

“Oh yes I do treasure.  I mean sleep.  I’m gonna spray lavender mist all over my sheets, and I’m gonna fluff up the pillows, and I’m gonna hold you soooo tight.”  I hear a gasp in his breath, and a crack in his voice. 

“Are you touching yourself?” I ask. 

“Ummmmmm,” he murmurs.  It’s not a yes or a no. 

“Are you hard thinking about sleeping with me?” I demand. 

“I’m aroused just thinking about having you in my bed Carol.  I get excited thinking about having you near me.”  He takes a ragged breath, and exhales a sound of pure pleasure.  “I just want you with me.  Is that wrong?” 

“Ohhhh,” I moan, as my fingers find my erogenous zones. 

“Do you get off thinking of being with me?” he asks. 

I get off on thinking of him getting turned on by taking care of me.  Because that’s what our conversations this week have been about.  Every time he crafted a fantasy to match my text, every time he waited to come until I got off, he was taking care of me.  Every time he fed me breakfast.  When he cooked for me.  When he used his fingers and tongue to get me off to put me to sleep before he even thought about his own pleasure.  It was all about taking care of me. 

“Yes Yon, you get me off.  You’re so good to me.  You take such good care of me,” I assure him. 

“Yes,” he exclaims, and I can hear him panting. 

“You’re the best, David.  You know what I want, what I need, and you give it to me.”  My brain takes over from my body, making my arousal almost more spiritual and emotional than physical. 

“Fuck Carol, (grunt) I want to taste you right now. (moan)  I want you to cum all over my face. (groan)  Take what you need from me.”  He’s louder, and his voice and the noises he’s making tell me everything I need to know.  He is oh, so submissive and I think it turns me on.  He’s so strong, so powerful.  He’s never going to let me beat him at hand to hand combat.  He’d never let anyone beat him in a fight.  He’s not a pushover.  He’s far from soft.  But my pleasure and my desires are more important to him than his. 

And I like it.  I like it more than I ever thought I would. 

“When we’re together again, you’re mine.  You’re gonna give me what I want, aren’t you?” 

“Come for me treasure.  I can’t come first,” he admits, and it’s just another piece of the Yon puzzle. 

I shove two fingers inside as I tease a nipple.  I wonder how long I could make him wait to come.  I wonder how long I could tease him until he had to come.   But not today.  I’m already there, and it didn’t take long.  I try not to tell him, but he figures it out.

“You’re coming, aren’t you?” he mumbles breathlessly. 

“Uh huh,” I admit, as my muscles contract against my fingers.

“Oh!” he yells.  “Oh fuck!”  I know he’s coming too. 

I grin as I slowly remove my fingers.  Yes, it’s going to be fun figuring out what exactly to do with this new information.  “Thank you,” I say, as I stretch out and get ready for the wonderful sleep that I know will come. 

“You’re mine Carol.  I am here to take care of you.” 

I grin as I rub the bite mark that’s still evident on my shoulder.  He claimed me, now I need to figure out a way to claim him. 

I hear the water running on his end of the phone, and I know he’s cleaning up.  But he’s still also focused on me.  “I can’t wait until you’re here with me again.” 

I yawn before I say, “Just a few days.”

“Go to sleep now treasure.  We’ll talk soon.”

“Good night David,” I whisper. 

“Good night love.”  I know it’s more than just a nickname.  I know he feels it.  But I’ll wait until he tells me. 

I place my phone on the end table, and try to get comfortable.  Soon I’ll be sleeping in his big bed, on his soft sheets.  Soon we’ll be together again. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, still pulling myself out of that hole. :(  
> Thanks everyone for sticking with me, for your kind words, and your encouragement. It is appreciated.


	21. I Don't Believe That Anybody Feels The Way I Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I apologize fellow Yonverses. I got distracted by another story. And I'm sorry.  
> It happens to me when the material I want to write is hard. I get enmeshed into something easier. And more fun.  
> That being said, enjoy this fluff.

 

I took care of Monica part of the day so Maria could get her hair cut, then go out to lunch with her mom.  She was mostly good for me.  We had a bit of an argument over lunch even though she can’t really talk.  She didn’t want her grilled cheese cut diagonally, so I cut it again and made triangles.  That seemed to satisfy her.  Before lunch we watched _The Lion King_ , and after lunch we watched _The Little Mermaid_.  I know it was lazy but I really don’t know what to do with a one year old besides cuddle and watch videos.  I think she liked it as much as I did. 

Maria seemed rejuvenated when she got home, and she had fun showing off her new ‘do.  I helped with dinner, and washed dishes after.  We make the perfect team and I would be completely content to live with Monica and Maria the rest of my life, if I hadn’t met Yon. 

So I’m alone on the couch after Maria goes to bed.  I’m finishing up my glass of wine and getting comfortable when I hear my text messages alert.  Yon usually don’t text me first.  I feel butterflies in my tummy at the thought of him initiating for once, excited to see what flirty comment he might start out with.  But it’s not flirty or fun, however it is a sentence I’ve become very familiar with. 

**_Call me._ **

I smile when I see it, and immediately hit the call button.  He answers quickly with a murmured, “Carol.”

“Hey Doctor Yon.  What’s up?”  I try to sound playful but for some reason just the tone of his voice gives me _that_ feeling.  The same feeling I got on the deck, before the MiGs.  I shiver from the sudden unease that overtakes me. 

“Nothing’s _up_.  I just wanted to hear your voice.”  His voice is warm and heavy, like he’s been sleeping.  But it’s dinner time in Cali. 

“What else did you want Yon?”  I roll over onto my side, and pull my thighs tight together.  I feel the familiar twinge in the muscles down there.  At this point I’m ready to go as soon as I hear him. That’s how well I’ve been trained by his phone sex voice. 

“I want whatever you want to give me, love.”  His tone is deeper, huskier, and even though I can’t shake that feeling that something isn’t right it still makes my privates tingle. 

“Do you really want to know what I want?” I whisper suggestively. 

He moans low in his throat.  “All I want right now is to give you what you want.”

“Tonight I want to know what you like.”  I hear his breath catch when I say it.  It’s a delicious sound that tells me he’s as ready for this as I am. 

_He wants me as much as I want him._

It still shocks me that he feels this way.  After the way it started out, his reluctance to cross the line that was drawn for us before we even met.  I’m so close to seeing him again, touching him again.  Having him how I’ve wanted him from the moment I laid eyes on him.  I touch my shoulder, touch his mark.  _Mine,_ he’d said so possessively it still gives me chills.  When I see him again I’m going to make sure he knows that I want him just as much. 

“You want to know what I really like?  What I really want?”  His accent is sexy as sin, and his voice is dripping lust.  His voice is raspier than usual, and I shiver almost violently at the thought that I get to see inside his mind for a change. 

He’s always looking behind the curtain at what I’m thinking and feeling.  Now it’s my turn.  “Yes.  Please.” 

“You, Carol.  I want _you_.  I _like_ you.”  It’s my turn to gasp.  Of course I want him to like me.  I want him to want me.  But it’s strange hearing it.  No one has ever said it to me in quite that way.  Not even Maria has said she likes me.  I mean, she hasn’t left me yet.  She wants me around her daughter.  So I assume she doesn’t dislike me.  But she hasn’t said it. 

My heart might be melting in my chest.  I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut and had the breath knocked out of me.  I’m not sure I’m breathing.  And I feel something wet on my cheek.  Are those tears?  Is this what crying feels like?  Is this how liking someone feels? 

“And I want to hold you, Carol.  You initiated it, and you teased me about it.  But when we talked about it I realized that’s what I want.  I want to hold you and touch you, smell you and hear you, I want to taste you.  In the few short days that we’ve known each other you’ve consumed me, Carol Danvers.” 

“David,” I whisper.  Then I hear an ugly loud sound escape my lips. 

His voice is just as gentle when he asks, “Are you crying Carol?” 

“Maybe,” I sob, and I’m fighting for each breath.  I didn’t know being this happy could feel this embarrassing.  And bad.  My heart feels so much it literally hurts. 

“Are you sad, or do you…” 

I interrupt him.  “No, I’m not sad.  I’m happy.  I want all of that too.”  Suddenly the sounds turn to laughter, like some crazy person. 

“Carol,” he mutters softly.  “Carol it’s okay to feel.  I’ve just recently realized that myself.” 

Is he saying he’s never felt this way for anyone before?  He doesn’t say a lot so it’s hard sometimes to piece together what he’s actually trying to tell me.  He doesn’t let his guard down much.  He’s strong and all male, masculine and very British in his stoicism.  Maybe he’s taken that too close to heart until meeting me. 

I feel myself smiling brightly.  It warms my entire body.

“Maria is going to take all the credit, you know that right?”  I giggle again as I say it. 

“You don’t know this, but I saw you walk into the bar.  I heard you and Maria talking loudly and I thought to myself, _bloody Americans_.  I won’t tell you what else I thought when I heard a couple of rowdy women walk into an officers’ bar.”  I roll my eyes and scoff.  I can literally imagine.  I’ve probably had the same thoughts myself.  But he chuckles.  “And I turned toward you, and your smile lit up the entire room.  You practically glowed.  And when I took in your dress uniform, and saw your bars, I knew I was in trouble.” 

“You took my breath at first glance.  I knew from the beginning you were too good for me,” I admit. 

“Carol-” he starts to interrupt. 

But I don’t let him.  “I knew you were all man, and I knew I was batting out of my league.” 

“Stop,” he chuckles nervously. 

“I was afraid of you, but Maria wouldn’t let me back down from the challenge.  And it was all fun and games, I didn’t expect you to even look at me.  But when I saw your eyes I knew I wouldn’t let up.  Your eyes captivated me from the first time I looked into them.  And they have ever since.” 

“I’m blushing,” he whispers.  It’s so cute and so honest, I blush too. 

“And the British accent didn’t hurt,” I continue. 

“I have to go, love.  But I want you to know I can’t wait to see you.  When I’m with you again I’m going to kiss you for four hours.”  I can’t help laughing at his oddly specific desire.  “And then I’m going to take you out to dinner.” 

“David.”  I say it low, as if it’s taboo.  I know when we’re seen together it will take everything to the next level.  He’s a Navy psychiatrist and I’m a seaman, after all. 

“I’ll see you soon, love.” 

“Good night David,” I say, as I hear the line go dead on his end. 

I roll over onto my back, tip my head up, and laugh loudly.  Then I kick my feet and beat my fists onto the thin mattress.  Doctor David Yon likes me!  He really likes me!  I can hardly believe it.  I can hardly fathom it! 

And he said it first! 

I laugh even louder. 

Until I hear “Carol!  Shush!” in the loudest whisper ever from the top of the steps.  “You’re going to wake Monica!”

“Sorry,” I whisper back. 

I put my fist against my lips to quiet myself.  But the smile is still there.  The joy is still there.  The happiness is almost overwhelming. 

He _likes_ me.  _He_ likes me. 

It’s almost hard to believe. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are those chapter notes as ominous as they seem?  
> Is something bad about to happen?  
> Stay tuned to find out!


	22. And I Would Be The One To Hold You Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiss you so hard I'll take your breath away. And after I'd wipe away the tears. Just close your eyes dear. 
> 
> "Possession" by Sarah McLachlan
> 
> I'm sorry.

I’m super excited to see Yon.  I don’t think I have ever been this excited to do anything other than fly.  I don’t think I’ve been this anxious to see someone other than Maria and Monica.  I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy to land in a plane.  I’m a little peeved that he couldn’t pick me up, but he assures me his issue will be cleared up soon and we’ll see each other for dinner. 

I see a black limo in front of the exit, and stare at it for several moments.  When he said last night he’d send a car for me, I wasn’t expecting it to be a limo.  But I should have.  He has expensive taste, so this is something he would pull off.  And I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have got this kind of welcome at anything other than the Air Force Reserve base I got the flight into.  And I was lucky to get it. 

So I walk around the car and do a visual inspection.  The tag isn’t expired, the tires are new, and the car is in great shape even though it’s probably ten years old.  I am nothing if not cautious.  So I approach the driver’s side from the rear and knock on the window.  He looks a little surprised as the window comes down.  He looks like a big guy even sitting down, with tons and tons of blonde hair. 

“Hey there limo driver,” I say with a tad bit of doubt and a little too much obvious forced niceness. 

“Hello Ms. Danvers,” he says calmly.  “I assume?”

Is it too calmly for someone knocking on his window?  I’m not getting any strong feelings of unease.  This is the car Yon sent for me, I remind myself.  Everything is fine. 

“Lieutenant Danvers,” I correct him.  “Who ordered the car?”  Okay, I can’t help it.  I’m a doubter.

He grabs a piece of paper that looks legit, and reads, “Doctor Yon, Ma’am.” 

“I’ll get your luggage,” he suggests, and moves to open the door.

“Not necessary.  I’ll put it in the seat with me.”  I want to see Yon.  I have a dinner date tonight.  Plus, I only have a week before I report to TopGun.  And I have a lot to do in a week.  I hope I’ll be spending it with him, and not in the visitor housing.  I did schedule a room, but I’m hoping I won’t need it. 

I climb in the back, and notice a bottle of champagne and two flutes in the back.  It takes me no time to open the bottle, I mean I’ve had practice with every imaginable bottle of alcohol.  Boxes and bags too.  I pour a glass, settle into the comfy leather seats, and sip on the expensive sparkling wine. 

Suddenly I’m tired.  So tired I can’t hold my eyes open.  So tired. 

With my last thought I send a text to Yon, hoping he understands. 

**_911_ **

 

~~~~~

 

I’m in my Grizzly flying over the beautiful blue Mediterranean.  Nothing is as calming and soothing as flying in the blue sky, over the blue sea.  I love the feeling of having complete control over such a powerful machine. 

“How you doing?” I ask Maria over the comms. 

Instead of hearing Maria’s comforting voice, I hear static.  I try to change the channel, but there’s nothing but static. 

“Command?” I call out through the comms. 

“Command?” I demand when I don’t get a response. 

I look to the east and see a MiG flying near me.  The pilot is wearing a mask, but I see bright yellow eyes. 

 

~~~~~

 

My eyes pop open.  I have no idea where I am.  There are no widows, and the only light is a small rectangle overhead.  A vehicle maybe?  It’s dark and empty, but I see dark carpeting, and metal walls.  And when I try to sit up I realize I’m restrained.  Cable ties from the way they’re biting into my wrists.  And great, there’s a bandana shoved in my mouth and tied around my head. 

I run my hands along the wall, and find a piece of metal standing out enough to get the plastic under.  I begin to saw at it.  I can’t see if it’s doing any good.  I can’t tell what’s happening.  I only know one thing.  I have to get out.  I have to get back to Yon.  _David_.  Why do I immediately think of him as Yon every time? 

I feel the van stop.  My heart starts pounding in my ears.  This is it.  This is the moment I face whoever it is that’s taken me.  Why do they even have me?  Are they planning to sell me to some billionaire sadist?  Or maybe this is some training exercise no one told me about.  Maybe this is all some kind of weird test, and I’m gonna lose my shit over it and the male pilots at TopGun will laugh at me. 

I squeeze my hands into fists and wait for the doors to open.  But they don’t.  This is even weirder.  What are they waiting for? 

Finally, after what feels like hours, I hear voices.  Male voices.  They’re muffled, but they’re talking loudly.  Like yelling.  They’re arguing about something. 

Then the door opens, and for a moment I can’t see anything because going from the darkness of the van outside light is blinding. 

But I don’t need to see the person to know who it is.  “You should have followed orders, Danvers.”  His face comes into focus a moment after I hear his voice.  It’s Yon.  He’s walking toward me with a needle in his hand.  I try to move away but I hooked the restraint on the metal and now I can’t pull it away.  I try to spit at the gag, try to shove it out of my mouth, but it’s impossible.  I can’t move.  My heart is beating wildly. 

It’s Yon.  It’s Yon with a needle coming at me.  It’s Yon who has kidnapped me.  It’s Yon.  Of course it’s him.  Of course no man like him would fall for a mess like me. 

“You should have returned to the carrier.  We would have had the plane, a pilot, and the perfect fall guy.  Maria just returned from maternity leave, and the Navy would have loved to blame her to prove women can’t do the job.”  He sighs loudly, and I see his expression as he moves closer.  I’m used to this emotionless person in front of me with the flat metallic eyes.  I’ve seen him before.  But I didn’t think I’d see him again.  Not after what we’ve done. 

“But now we have to use you.” 

I’m trying to yell at him, but I can’t.  I try to strike at him, but my hands are behind my back.  And he’s right beside me now, pushing on the plunger of the needle to clear out the air bubbles.  And I can’t get away. 

“Now you know why I tried so hard not to fall for you.  As soon as you made sure both planes landed successfully they activated me.  They knew the Navy would send you to me.  I didn’t want to fall for you Carol.”  He says it as he pushes the needle into my left bicep and forces the fluid into my arm.  “I fought against it.  I didn’t want this to happen.  But you made it impossible not to fall for you.  I have a job to do.  I still have to do it.”  After he pulls the needle out he touches my cheek gently, then caresses as he pushes the matted tangled hair off my face. 

It’s still his eyes.  They are so intriguing.  They’re beautiful and perfect.  They’re magnetic.  They pulled me in and made me believe in fairy tales. 

I feel the darkness overtaking me as I stare into them.  I want to say something, anything.  This is wrong.  Not him.  Not the only guy I’ve ever fallen for.  The only guy I’ve really wanted is a traitor.  Of course he is. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, as I feel him fade away.  As I feel myself fade away. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've seen the movie. You know what Yon Rogg did.
> 
> And trust me, it was hard as hell to write this part. Why do you think I've been avoiding it?
> 
> I'm sorry. Truly.


	23. Tell Me Your Secrets, And Ask Me Your Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody said it was easy. No one ever said it would be this hard.  
> Oh take me back to the start.

I wake up quickly, and look around.  I’m in a plain room, not unlike many of the rooms I’ve stayed in while traveling with the Navy.  The walls are a calming lavender gray.  I see a gray overstuffed chair sitting beside a matching pair of one foot by one foot cubed bookshelves, full of paperbacks.  My suitcase is propped against the wall beside it, with my purse on top of it.  There is recessed lighting in the ceiling, which is about nine feet high. 

There are no windows, but there’s a door that I assume is the exit, and another door that leads to the restroom.  I have no idea how long I’ve been under, but my bladder says it’s been a while.  I use the facilities, and fill the plastic cup they’ve left me with water from the sink to quench my thirst. 

I hear locks clicking, and turn toward the bedroom to find Yon standing just inside it with a plate full of food.  He’s wearing black slacks and a black button down.  I see now why he favors gray, because he does look intense and ultra-sexy.  Can’t blend in looking like James Bond, I guess.  His golden eyes pop, and I see faint dark circles around his bottom lids, like he hasn’t slept well in days.  But he’s freshly saved, and as well put together as usual.  Damn, he is so fucking good looking.  _Too_ good looking to be real. 

Even though I’ve ached to see him for days, I feel my hands balling into fists, and my shoulders and hips squaring. 

He notices of course, because he says, “Don’t.  You know you can’t win.”  He’s right, of course, but hearing it just pisses me off.  “And I have your dinner here.  You need to eat.” 

His high class, proper British accent is back, but hearing him, seeing him, still sends ripples of excitement through my body. 

I stare at him for several moments, waiting for more.  An explanation, an apology, anything that will help me make sense of this.  But all he does is place the food on top of the bookshelf and step away.  Then he looks back at me, and our eyes meet.  His expression gives absolutely nothing away.  It’s chilling how easily he turns it off. 

“Why?” I ask, after what feels like forever. 

“It wasn’t my decision,” he replies, and takes another step toward the door.  As if I could beat him there.  As if I have any chance of getting away. 

“Whose decision was it?” I ask, and move back, toward the bathroom.  I know he’s not coming at me, or threatening me, but I don’t want to be near him right now.  I don’t trust myself.  I don’t know if I’d try to strangle him or kiss him, and that scares me. 

“I don’t know, honestly.  I just do what I’m told.”  He shakes his head, but doesn’t look away from me.  “Just like you do.” 

“Who do you work for?” I demand, and take another step away from him. 

He takes another step toward me and pleads, “Carol.”  But I hold out my hand to stop him as I shake my head.  “The less you know, the better chance you will have.” 

“To live?”  My voice breaks when I say it.  “To survive?” 

He nods.  I think that might be too much for him, because his mask finally cracks.  He closes his eyes and his lips come up in a grimace.  He inhales loudly, and when he exhales his eyes pop open.  Suddenly he’s blank again. 

“Do you realize what you do to me?  Do you manipulate me intentionally, or does it come natural to you?” 

It’s my turn to gasp.  “Manipulate?  I’m just trying to get answers.” 

His stance changes now.  He angles his body toward me, his posture becoming even straighter somehow.  “By pointing out the fact that I could lose you?” 

I open my mouth to say something, but close it quickly.  _As if that would mean anything to you_ remains unsaid.  He’s right, that could be seen as manipulative.  But it isn’t.  It’s my own realization that I am meaningless.  I’m nothing.  I’m not what he wanted, not what he chose.  I’m just a job to him.  Just a target to get information out of. 

And somehow he reads my mind. “Don’t think that way, Carol.  I want you.  I’ve told them, of course.  The Leader of Intelligence was delighted, which is disconcerting on so many levels.  He thinks we will both be more motivated to complete the task and resume our relationship.” 

“I’m not a traitor,” I spit out. 

“Your government, your Navy, has done nothing but discriminate against you.  The men, they treat you like you're less than.  Women hate you for trying to accomplish more than them.  Your parents…”

“No.  You don’t get to do this to me.”  I take another step backward and I’m in the bathroom.  But before I can close the door he’s there, holding it open.  I release it, and find myself with my back against the plain white sink.  I inhale again, expecting a fight.  Or more realistically expecting to get my ass handed to me. 

He folds his arms in front of his chest and leans casually against the door frame.  “This is why I’m falling so hard Carol.  You’re a fighter.  You don’t quit.  And it’s so fucking sexy to me.  It’s literally an aphrodisiac.”  He doesn’t move toward me, but his face changes.  Just like that his fucking eyes are on fire.  He’s taking me in like a drug.  His eyes narrow, his nostrils flare, and his lips pucker up, after he licks them.  “You asked me the other evening what I want.”  His eyes travel down my body and back up, mentally undressing me.  “I want to test your limits, Danvers.  I want to push you, and train you, and teach you.  And I want to fuck you until I can’t move, roll over on my back, grab your hips, and force you to continue.  I want…”

I hear myself pant.  My eyes go wide, and my lips part.  It’s fucking insane how his words tear through me.  I grab hold of the sink so hard I might break my nails. 

In one swift move his body is against mine, grabbing my hands and tugging them over my head until they’re against the stainless steel mirror.  I’m trapped with the sink biting into my back, and his hips grinding into mine.  He grabs my wrists with one hand, then moves the other slowly down my cheek to rest on my throat.  He’s staring down at me, those eyes of his glittering with lust.  His eyelids become heavy as he stares at my lips, before flicking up to meet my eyes. 

“You have no idea how close I was to tearing that dumbass Texan limb from limb, just for fucking kissing you.  You don’t know how far I’ll go to be with you Carol.”  He looks down at his hand, where he’s moved the neck of my t-shirt to expose his mark.  It’s still there, bruising now but still obvious.  “You are mine.  No matter what happens after this, no matter where we end up, you are always going to be _mine_.” 

He leans forward so that our lips touch.  I sigh at the physical and emotional response flooding through me.  My mind knows he’s right.  I know he’s claimed me on a spiritual level.  My body tenses up, waiting for the release I know he can give me. 

His tongue comes out to gain entrance, and I bite it roughly.  He groans and grabs my throat tighter, and I let go.  “Another thing you don’t know about me.  I like it rough.”  He takes advantage of my shock to enter my mouth quickly, deeply, fiercely. 

I would say he’s taking what he wants, but he and I both know it’s already his. 

He moves away at the same time I hear something, like a muffled whisper.  He stares into my eyes but I can see he’s listening.  He must be wearing an earpiece. 

He moves away from me saying, “Sorry, I have to go love.  But I’ll be back soon.  I promise.”  He looks me over one last time, before turning to walk away.  “Please eat.  I made eggs for you.”  He stops at the door and takes one more glance at me before closing it and locking it. 

I turn to face the mirror, staring at myself.  How did _this_ happen?  I was so close to sleeping with the enemy, with a traitor.  And I’m sure I will do it, if he tries again.  I won’t be able to tell him no. 

I stare at myself, and I scream. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be no where else for them to end up but here.
> 
> Don't forget to leave your kudos and comments! Writers love it. We eat it up like candy!


	24. Every Breath You Take, Every Move You Make

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for this mess.   
> Unless you like it.   
> Then I'm very proud of this mess.

I’m sitting in the comfy chair, reading a strange novel about an alien who kidnaps a poor damsel in distress and takes her into space.  It would be a little more fun to me if I was not currently being held against my will.  I feel like I’ve been sitting here for eight hours, but I’ve only read three chapters.  It doesn’t help that I have to stop every few pages to scream at the book.  It’s so close to my own situation it isn’t funny, and some dumbass author is romanticizing it! 

“Come on, she wouldn’t do that!  She’s a prisoner not a guest in a luxury hotel!” I yell, at the same time I hear the locks click.  This time I am in the same room, and I watch intently, trying to get more information on my jail cell.  Both sides of the lock require a key I see, as he slides a keyring into his pocket.  Yon enters with another plate full of food and a wide smile on his face. 

“I see you’re not allowing yourself to be bored.  And you’ve eaten,” he says proudly, when he finds the previous plate empty.  “Good for you, Carol.  Hunger strikes only hurt the captive.  You need your strength.”

“Is that what I am to you?  A captive?”  I scoot away from him, even though he’s not trying to touch me.  This is how it started earlier, and look where that got me. 

“You are a captive because they want something from you.  This isn’t what I wanted.”  He doesn’t back away like I did earlier.  He doesn’t try to avoid the difficult conversation like I would.  He sits down on the bed facing me, and continues as if we were talking over breakfast like we did so many times.  “I wanted to play the long game.  I wanted to gain your trust and bring you to my side.  But they can’t wait.  They want it now.”  He’s as calm and cool as usual, and if I thought I had the slightest chance I would slap the shit out of him. 

“The long game?  Gaining my trust?”   My eyes squint up as I say it.  I haven’t felt them do that while looking at him in a while.  He had gained my trust.  I felt comfortable with him, more than almost anyone else.  And it pisses me off.  I make sure he can hear it in my tone when I ask, “Did they tell you to fuck me too?” 

“Of course.  I’m especially good at seducing people to get them to do what I want, or to get information from them.”  I scoff and roll my eyes.  That’s the exact opposite of what I wanted to hear him say.  “But I didn’t want to have sex with you because they told me to.  You have to know all those times you offered yourself to me it killed me to tell you no.”  I cross my arms over my chest and shake my head.  No, I don’t know that.  “It was like a hundred little deaths.  I wanted you so damn bad, but I couldn’t.” 

“Sure.  I guess that isn’t why we had sex,” I accuse. 

“It isn’t,” he counters, as if he’s stunned I don’t believe him. 

“Oh please.” 

“You came to me that night,” he argues.

“Whatever,” I grumble, and toss the book aside. 

He continues to talk over my childish comments.  “I couldn’t deny my feelings for you any longer.” 

“If you say so,” I murmur with a shrug. 

Before I know what’s happening I am being lifted easily off the chair, and deposited flat on my back on the bed.  And Yon is on top of me, using his hands to hold my arms down and his weight to anchor the rest of me.  His eyes are all fiery and bright like molten gold, his color is high and his lips are full and glistening. 

“I will not allow you or anyone else to doubt my feelings for you Carol.”  He thrusts his hips into me, making sure I know how big and hard he is.  My eyes go wide and my lips part when I feel it.  I want him so damn much it is painful.  He smiles wickedly when he sees my body’s reaction to him.  “I can fake a lot of things, but no one can fake that.” 

I bite my bottom lip to keep myself from begging him to fuck me.  But he already knows me so well he can tell what I’m thinking.  And I don’t know if I love it or hate it. 

Then he says something so naughty it sends my muscles into spasms.  “Why don’t you touch it and find out how much I want you.”  His voice is smokier, huskier, when he’s talking dirty to me and I love it.  This is the voice that made me come while we were on the phone. 

“Touch me Carol,” he practically moans.  When he finishes it off with a “Please,” that is about five syllables long, I shake violently. 

He releases my right hand and I immediately slap him on his handsome face.  But in my position it’s less of a slap and more of a pat. 

His bottom lip thrusts out and he moans, “Ummmm… In another time and place I’d like that.  Put it on your lists of things you want to do to me.”  As he says it he’s already grabbed my wrist, and he’s moving it slowly down his body, over his chest that is chiseled and rock hard, down his stomach that is even harder, to his big dick. 

We both gasp at the same time.  He takes the opportunity to shove his skillful tongue into my mouth again.  Damn he’s a great kisser, so thorough, so eager to please.  I should have already said no.  I should have tried to stop him.  Deep in my mind I know this is wrong.  But another part of me doesn’t give a fuck.  I want him.  

As he kisses me my hand starts to move on its own.  He knows the exact moment it happens, and his hips snake against mine.  Our noises are muffled, but we are both moaning.  It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. 

I begin to fight against his belt.  He releases my other hand to make it easier for me.  He tugs at my t-shirt as I work to open his fly.  He has my tits in his palm moments before I free his big cock.  He breaks the kiss to throw his head back when I wrap my hands around it. 

He’s right, he can’t fake this.  It’s not right, but at least I know it’s _real_. 

“Fuck Carol I have no idea what you do to me,” he mutters as he plays with my nipples while moving into my hands.  “You set a fire inside me that I can’t control.  I want it to grow until it burns everything around us.” 

Is he saying what I think…

His fingertips move lightly down my stomach and I tremble.  I’ve never had such a fierce reaction to anyone else.  No one has set my nerve endings aflame like him.  On fire?  Such an accurate description.  I completely understand. 

Then he’s almost violently unbuttoning and unzipping my jeans, and he has them off faster than I can get them on.  He caresses my ass as he shoves them down, and I tip my hips up to help him.  His fingers deftly find my clit and rub it gently, while his other hand is on my lower back tipping me up toward him.  I feel my tongue on my lip and watch as he swoops down to suck it into his mouth, pressing it against the roof and massaging the underside until I’m dizzy from it.  Then his fingers are inside me, and I hear his grunts and groans.  Just from fingering me.  I’m so fucking wet for him and he likes it.  He wants it. 

He wants _me_. 

His fingers immediately go for my g-spot, and I’m instantly a panting, shaking, wiggling mess.  I know what he’s doing.  He doesn’t have a lot of time for foreplay, but he still needs to get me off. 

He even voices this thought when he pulls away to stare into my eyes.  His voice and eyes are almost hypnotic when he mutters, “You come first Carol.  You _always_ come first.” 

I’ve never thought of exactly what that phrase means until just now, and I like it. 

“Yes love.  Come for me,” he mutters when we both feel my pussy grip his fingers tighter.  “I warned you I was gonna fuck you hard, fuck you crazy, make you come.”  He’s so good at using all of his tools, and now he knows his voice is one of them.  I’m shaking, and moaning, and he’s smiling at me.  Not a malicious smile, but a grin of pure joy.  He enjoys getting me off.  And I love that he likes it. 

“Tell me you’re gonna take me raw.  Tell me you can’t wait to cum inside me,” I moan.  I feel my thighs tighten around his wrist.  I might break his hand.  I might shatter him into a thousand pieces.  And he might do the same to me.  My hands go around his waist to his back, and I feel my fingernails digging in.  The noise he makes is pleasure mixed with pain, and it’s obvious he likes it.  A lot. 

He’s losing control.  I can see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice when he growls, “Gonna shove it in while you’re still coming.  Gonna feel your contractions around my cock when I blow for you.” 

I want it so damn bad.  If I wasn’t on fucking edge already I would deny him, make him take it.  But I can’t.  I feel the orgasm taking hold.  Feel my muscles release and tighten.  And just like he said he would, he withdraws his fingers and shoves in his cock.  My eyes roll back in my head as I have to spread my legs to adjust to his size.  I move up into him as he thrusts into me.  His cock throbs inside me, to the same rhythm as my orgasm. 

His slick fingers move up slightly to caress my clit.  I nearly scream from the overload of pleasure.  And I know he likes it.  “You’re mine Carol.  No one will ever take you from me.”  He says it as he rocks his hips roughly into me. 

I squeeze tighter around him even as I spread my thighs to wrap around his waist, so I can press my heels into him.  He bucks harder, sliding every long thick inch inside. 

“You feel so good.  So good for me.  You’re mine.  This pussy is mine.”  His voice rumbles inside my own chest, vibrating against my heart. 

I come again as I feel his dick getting even thicker, harder.  He’s gonna come inside me, and just that thought makes me spiral out of control.  Something deep and primal inside me reacts to that thought, and maybe in him too. 

“So fucking deep.  Coming so fucking deep inside you,” he cries out. 

He looks into my eyes as his hands move up my body to caress my face.  He’s still inside me as he holds me.  His eyes tell me I’m precious.  His lips tell me he cares as he kisses me gently.  He moves to nuzzle against my throat, and whispers, “You’re so good, Carol.  You’re so perfect.  You’re everything I’ve always wanted.” 

Then, as suddenly as it all happens he pulls away.  He sits back onto his knees between my legs and begins to fix his clothing after he touches his ear. 

“I told you not to disturb me,” he says gruffly. 

And that’s the second I remember he’s my jailor.  I’m his prisoner. 

“Yes, I’m on my way,” he says, as he leans forward to kiss my stomach before touching his ear again.  “I’m sorry Carol.  I didn’t mean for this to happen.  I get so carried away when it comes to you.”  He’s fixing his belt as he looks into my eyes again.  And there he is.  There’s the emotionless Doctor David Yon I know so well. 

“Eat your lunch love.  I’ll be back soon,” he says, as he leans in for one more kiss.  Then he’s off the bed in a black blur.  When he’s at the door he gives me one last look before he closes it and locks me inside. 

Everything about what we just did was wrong.  How did I let it happen?  How did I want it so damn much?

Has he fucked with my head?  Or is it just _us_?  How will I ever really know?

Now I’m lying in my bed, in my cell, completely and totally spent.  My clothes are a mess.  My mind is racing. 

But there’s one thing I know for sure.  I have to get out of here. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope someone enjoys it!  
> Please comment and kudo! You know I love it!


	25. Excuse Me Can I Please Talk To You For A Minute?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But I just wanted to know, do you know somebody named Yon?  
> You know his name?  
> Oh yeah definitely I know his name. Well I just want to let you know that he's mine.
> 
>  
> 
> The Boy Is Mine - Brandy and Monica

I’m trying a different book, because the last one was way too ridiculous.  A human woman kidnapped by an alien and taken to a strange planet?  Crazy. 

I have no idea what time it is.  They took my phone while I was out.  And by _they_ I mean Yon.  How could he do this to me?  I thought he _cared_ about me!  How could I let him have sex with me?  Not to mention how much I liked it.  How much I wanted him to take me, to _own_ me.  I shiver just thinking about it.  I can’t say I wouldn’t do the exact same thing the next time he swaggers through the door. 

I’ve thought about what he said they wanted, the reason why I’m here.  It’s not like I’ve had a lot to do while stuck in this small room.  I can’t help wondering where I am.  I’m pretty sure it wasn’t built for me, and it isn’t the worst jail cell ever.  I wonder who has been here before me.  Criminals evading the police?  Illegals that needed to stay hidden?  People waiting for new passports so they could leave the country?  Thinking in hypotheticals is gonna make me insane.

But yea, back to stealing the plane and giving it to them.  I don’t even know who they are and I hate them.   They wanted to set up Maria simply because she was back from maternity leave.  Because she is a woman.  I’m so glad I was the one up there with her.  Anyone else, especially a man, might have abandoned her.  And she would have been blamed and probably labeled a traitor.  Monica would have grown up without either parent, thinking her mother was a spy.  They should be glad it happened this way.  I would have hunted them down until I found out who had her, and I wouldn’t have stopped until she was home with Monica. 

Not that I would even know where to start, or how to track them down.  I’m not a warrior or a hero.  I’m a pilot.  I don’t even know who _they_ are.  I have to assume they are Russian because of the MiGs, but really they could have been any rogue government with Russian tech.  I wonder if Yon is Russian.  I wonder if that’s where he got his gold eyes.  The one thing I do know for sure is Yon is a double agent.  Whoever he’s working for, he’s not loyal to my side, so he’s my enemy. 

And I can’t give him a plane, even if I wanted to.  That’s not how the Navy works.  My plane is still on that carrier in the Mediterranean, until they send me there to fly it back.  There are flight plans, and scheduled refuelings.  Unless they have a plan to…

I hear the locks clicking in the door, so I set the book aside and stare at the door.  Waiting for Yon.  Trembling and eager for his touch, his golden gaze, his affection.  He’s probably brought my dinner.  Maybe he wants to talk more about their plan.  Maybe he just wants _me_. 

But when the door opens I see it isn’t Doctor Yon.  It’s a woman.  A tall, gorgeous Asian woman, with shiny dark hair and flawless skin.  She carries a plate and sits it on the shelf, with a sandwich and some potato chips on it.  Yon would never bring me a sandwich.  Yon has only brought me food he has carefully prepared himself. 

“Where is Yon?” I demand, as she picks up the empty plate. 

“Yon?” she asks, with one perfect eyebrow cocked.  She turns toward me, and I notice a gun tucked into the waistband of skin-tight black jeggings.  Why does she have a gun to bring me food? 

“ _Doctor_ Yon.” 

She glares at me, and she looks scary.  Terrifying.  Like she’s dressed like an assassin in all black, and the gun just completes the look.  Then I remember how hot Yon looked in all black.  And he did look intimidating.  Just like her. 

“The guy who brought me here?” I continue when she doesn’t say anything. 

She takes a step toward me and looks me up and down, as if sizing me up.  I’m not going to fight her, if that’s what she’s worried about.  She has a gun, and she looks like she could take me.  And Yon.  At the same time. 

“So you’re Yon’s new assignment,” she mutters, as she shakes her head.  “They always tend to get attached.”  She has a posh British accent, just like his.  So how likely is it that two spies are both Brits. 

“What?”  I don’t know why I’m surprised.  He basically told me that whoever he works for wanted him to seduce me.  But the getting attached thing?  I am _not_ attached. 

She stares at me until I feel extremely uncomfortable.  Then she shrugs as if she’s decided I’m meaningless.  “Even when they find out his true purpose, they still think he cares about them.  It’s pathetic, really.  Show some integrity, some pride in yourself.”

My eyes squint up at her.  I’m pathetic?  She’s the one who is helping him hold me against my will.  And she seems almost proud that he seduces women for his side’s benefit.  “Wait a minute.  Who the hell are you to call me pathetic?” 

“I’m his wife,” she states.  She watches me intently as I try to show no emotion.  She grins at me, so proud of herself.  “He didn’t tell you?” 

I try not to react.  His _wife_?  Did he tell her I have feelings for him?  Did he tell her I thought I was special?  Did he tell her I’d grown attached?  Is that what he thinks of me?  I look away from her intense stare and shake my head slightly.  I _am_ pathetic. 

“Well now that you know, you can stop romanticizing his attention.  He doesn’t care about you.  You’re a means to an end.  And once he has what he wants from you he won’t hesitate to kill you, if that’s what the leader tells him to do.”  Her tone is almost gleeful.  She’s talking about her husband fucking another woman, and she seems proud of it.  She’s crushing me, and she’s happy about it. 

“I don’t care,” I spit out, but I sound like a kid throwing a tantrum.  I do care, damn it.  I really thought he was different.  I really thought I was special to him.  I thought there was something going on between us.  Even after he fucked me and left me abruptly earlier, after I knew why he befriended me, I thought it meant something.  She’s right.  I am pathetic.  “I just want out of here, and away from him.”  Even to my own ears I don’t sound like I’m being honest. 

“You can get away from him after you give us the plane.  Give us what we want and you’ll never have to see him again.”  She says it with a slight grin.  As if all I have to do is give them what they want, and my problems will be solved.  As if I even _could_. 

“I’m just a pilot.  You assholes have to come up with the plan.”  I can’t believe I actually agreed to this.  I can’t believe all it took was her promising I wouldn’t have to face the one man I’ve fallen for. 

“Don’t worry, we will.  And you’ll do what we tell you to do.  Not just because of Yon.  But because we do know who you really care about.”  I gasp at that.  I can’t hide my emotions at that threat.  “That’s right.  Yon told us about Maria and Monica.  And if you give us what we want you can go back to them.” 

“You bitch,” I move to stand up, just as her hand moves to her gun.  I melt back into the chair. 

“Yes, it’s obvious who you really care about,” she smirks as she says it.  “Be good and do as you’re told, and you can return to your old life, before Yon.”

I feel my hands ball into fists.  They threatened Maria again.  They won’t get away with it.  No matter what happens I will get away and I will hunt them down.  I will. 

She smiles sweetly before she turns toward the door.  “Be a good girl Carol and no one will get hurt.” 

Except for me.  I’ll get hurt.  I’m already hurt. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This just morphed into Captain Marvel/Top Gun/The Americans.  
> And I'm pretty pleased with it!


	26. I'm Down To Just One Thing, And I'm Starting To Scare Myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little more NIN for this one.   
> Enjoy the lemon flavored angst.

There’s no way I can sleep.  Not here.  Not after what she said.  They turned the lights down without entering the room, so I just assumed it was time to get ready for bed.  Not that I have a window, or any way to tell.  I obediently brushed my teeth, changed into shorts and a t-shirt, and crawled into the bed.  About ten minutes after, the lights went out.  Except for the light in the bathroom, it stayed low. 

But I’ve just been laying here.  Five minutes?  Half an hour?  Three hours?  How am I supposed to know? 

I can’t believe I fell for it.  Even after he told me what he really is, I still believed him.  _I will not allow you or anyone else to doubt my feelings for you Carol._ And I fell for it.  Hell, the erection was probably fake.  He probably took a little blue pill before he entered the room.  He probably takes them all the time.  But I believed it meant something.  I’m such a fucking idiot. 

At that, I hear the locks click.  I keep myself still, silent.  I refuse to look, to seem eager.  I will not appear troubled by any of it.  Not even when I hear a whispered, “Carol,” do I roll over toward the sound.  _His_ voice.  His husky, haunting, phone sex tone.  I hear clothing being removed silently.  I shudder at the thought that he’s getting naked to join me.  And yet, my body still reacts.  I still feel that spark deep inside my stomach. 

Fuck him for doing this to me.  For _manipulating_ me.  For making me want him. 

“Carol,” he says a little louder as he pulls at the covers.  Then I feel him slide into the bed beside me.  I feel his body heat, smell his expensive cologne.  I fucking ache for him, just like he trained me to.  When he reaches out to kiss my shoulder I pull away. 

“Carol it’s me,” he mutters as he scoots closer.  “It’s David.”  He wraps his arm around my waist, and I immediately sit up. 

“I know.”  As I say it I try to inch farther away, but he holds me tight.  He’s proven how much strong he is than me over and over.  I feel like I should fight him, but I’ve been fighting with myself for hours, and I really don’t have the strength. 

“Then why…”  He sounds concerned as he asks it, but then his thought fades.  He knows why I’m pulling away.  He’s a psychiatrist, there’s no way he doesn’t know.  He wraps his arm around my chest and pulls me back down onto the bed.  “I’m sorry love.  I’m sorry we’re here.  I wish we weren’t.”  His voice is darker, hoarser, sexier as he moves to kiss my ear.  He moves his hand down over my ribs, and I flinch.  He feels it, because he stops suddenly before he sighs into my ear.  “I need you tonight Carol,” he whispers as he rubs his erection against my backside. 

As if that means anything.  I know it doesn’t.  But still I yearn for him.  I ache for what I’ll never have.  And I feel myself responding, even though I wish I wouldn’t. 

“Treasure,” he murmurs when he feels my ass push back into him.  His hand moves almost hesitantly over my tummy, under my shirt.  The strip of skin he’s exposed on my back encounters his bare stomach.  He’s nude, in bed with me.  It should be perfect. 

I bite my lip, trying to hold back the moan forming deep in my throat, in my heart. 

He must hear it, or feel it, because he moves into my body, spooning me.  “I know it’s hard for you.  It’s hard for me too.  I’ve never felt anything like this, and it scares me.” 

Fuck.  I fucking believe him.  Even after everything I know.  Fuck he’s good at what he does.  I bet the women have no idea what he really is.  I bet he has them eating out of his hands.  And if they’re lucky they don’t know what hit them after he’s finished.  The unlucky ones, like me, have to live with having him and knowing it wasn’t real.  Knowing he’s a liar, and a master manipulator.  Knowing he’s already married to a beautiful, sexy badass woman just like him.  British just like him.  A spy just like him. 

And I really thought I stood a chance with him.  I’m such an idiot. 

“Don’t pull away love.  I need you to remind me this is real.”  One hand sweeps up toward my breasts, as the other moves my hair out of his way so he can kiss my neck.  I want to melt into him so badly it hurts.  But I can’t. 

_He_ needs to know this is real?  Fuck him! 

“I met your wife today.”  Somehow I get the words out without screaming them.  Somehow I say it without pulling away, trying to hit him, trying to strangle him with my bare hands. 

At least it stops him, with his right hand on my breast and the fingers of his left woven in my hair.  “My wife?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know who I’m talking about. 

“Asian.  Long silky dark hair.  Gorgeous.  Carried a gun to bring my dinner.”  As if he needs to be reminded who is wife is.  While he’s lying in bed with me.  Seducing me.  Which he’s oh so good at. 

“Minnerva,” he groans.  He loosens his hold on me and I pull away.  But he doesn’t let me go.  His fingers tighten in my hair, and I gasp as I pull back quickly.  If we were standing I’d know how to get away from him, because he taught me.  But we’re not, and his fingers dig into my hip to hold me where he wants me.  “She was here.” 

“Yes.  She brought me a sandwich.” 

“She doesn’t mean anything to me.”  His voice is softer, but thicker.  And it’s so twisted it’s almost scary when he moves in to kiss my neck again. 

“She’s your wife,” I remind him harshly. 

“I need _you_ , Carol.”  His hand dips into my shorts, caressing over my pubic bone downward.  Oh, shit.  He’s still going to act like he wants me.  Shit.  I can’t. 

Until he pushes my panties away, and his fingertips brush against my lips. 

“Mmmmmmm so fucking wet.”  It’s a dark growl from deep in his throat, and my body reacts to it.  My legs part automatically.  I exhale as he centers his fingers at the slit hiding my entrance.  “So fucking good for me,” he mumbles against my ear as he parts my folds and finds my clit.  My back arches and my head falls backward, shoving my ass against his hard cock again.  “That’s it.  Give it to me.” 

“Please don’t,” I plead. 

But he moves my shirt and kisses his mark on my shoulder.  “You’re mine Carol.  I know you want me.  I can feel your body’s response.”  His middle finger taps at my clit before sliding down.  “So wet love.  You’re so wet for me.”  I feel his shoulders shake as he takes my skin into his mouth again.  His hips rock upward, and his hardness thrusts against my thin cotton shorts and I can’t contain my moans. 

I want him so damn bad.  But he’s married.  And I’m his captive.  This is every kind of wrong.  So why does he make it feel so damn right?

“You’re the only thing I want Carol.  You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” he says as he shoves a finger into me and curls it upward.  I gasp as I feel myself rubbing against him, encouraging him.  He finds my g-spot and he’s relentless in his desire to make me lose control. 

“Please stop.”  I beg him even as my muscles tighten around his finger. 

“You know I can’t stop until you come.”  Damn his sexy voice.  Damn _him_. 

I close my eyes and pant, trying hard to breathe.  I will deny him.  I won’t let him do this to me.  I won’t let him take whatever he wants. 

“Please Yon,” I moan.  But as I do I tip my head back toward him and spread my legs wider.  The head of his cock touches my lower back and it’s so wet.  I shiver at the intense desire to have him inside me. 

“What are you begging for?”  His lips are against mine when he asks it.  I lean forward to take a kiss, but he refuses.  “Use your words love.” 

I can barely make out his gorgeous eyes in the low light, and they are smoldering.  He moves his hips again, showing me how hard he is, how bad he wants to be inside me. 

“Please.”  I lean into him again, relax, and let him pleasure me.  “Please Yon.”  I can hear the difference in my voice.  It’s practically a purr. 

“Let me make you come.  Let me have that.” 

“Yes,” I moan.  When I lean into him again he takes my mouth.  I let go of all the anger, all the fear I’ve felt and just feel his lips on mine, his tongue in my mouth, his finger inside me.  I don’t even remember why I wanted to hold back. 

“Ummhmmm…”  He must feel my muscles clenching tighter.  As soon as I feel the waves crash inside me he removes his hand, and he takes hold of my hips.  He flips me over onto my stomach, then tips my pelvis up until I’m on my knees.

“Yon,” I groan as I feel my muscles clenching around nothing.  “Pleeeeeeese.”

He swipes my shorts down over my ass, and mutters, “Gonna fuck you so hard love.”  He places one hand on my lower back, then the other guides his thick cock inside me.  It feels monstrous because my muscles are so fucking tight.  “Fuck!” he yells as he hits the bottom in one smooth thrust. 

“Yes.  Yes.  Please.  Yon.”  I’m looking back at him, and his face is scrunched up tight.  He looks like he’s fighting against himself like I did earlier.  He’s trying to resist his own pleasure.  “Let go beast.”  I have no idea where that came from, but it rolls off my tongue easily.  He looks like a wild animal with those golden eyes and that muscular body, which I can see almost all of from this angle. 

He shakes his head for a moment, resisting me.  Until he growls “Fuck,” and grabs my hips so roughly he lifts my knees off the bed.  I wrap my feet around his thick thighs, and allow him to use me like a fuck toy.  He pulls me into him as he thrusts deeper, faster.  He’s pressing against my g-spot, and I might be losing my damn mind.  “Fuck Carol.  Fuck!” he grunts. 

_My name_.  He’s lost in his physical animal need, and it’s my name on his lips. 

“Fuck me beast,” I demand. 

He growls at me, and somehow pushes harder.  I scream when the violent orgasms hits me. 

“Carol.  Fuck Carol.  Yes!” he yells.  My cum is shooting out, splashing over his thighs.  And suddenly he’s coming too.  His entire body shudders with it. 

He holds me off the bed, against him, for what feels like forever.  He’s just breathing.  His pecs and biceps are tight.  His abs are tighter.  And his erection isn’t going down. 

His eyes catch mine, and his pupils are blown wide.  “Carol.  Tell me you know how I feel.  Tell me you trust me.”

Was that all from a pill?  His need to take me, to force me to feel, could have been trained, practiced.  But that look in his eyes, that sparkling bliss, can’t be faked.

He releases me slowly, placing my knees back on the bed.  He looks stunned, like he’s shocked he went so far, so hard.  “I didn’t mean to hurt you love.  But I needed you so much.”  He bends his body to kiss my lower back.  “I won’t let them take you from me.  You’re mine.” 

So is that what tonight was about?  They threatened me, or him.  Or maybe he found out that I knew about Minnerva.  Either way he was desperate to show me how he feels.  And he definitely did. 

He’s still inside me when he gently moves us to our sides.  He spoons me again, and brings the covers up over us.  “Tell me you’re mine.”  He sounds almost desperate.  He sounds honest.  But I know he’s good at faking it. 

I turn away from him, and quietly exhale.  I don’t have to give him that. 

“Good night David,” I say around a yawn. 

He tips his forehead against my hair and mutters, “Carol.” 

At least now maybe I can sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to kudo, bookmark, or message me and tell me how insane this is...


	27. Say My Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the David Guetta song "Say My Name."  
> I just heard it for the first time today, and I'm stunned.  
> What a song!

“Are you seeing this Photon?” I ask, almost not believing what I’m seeing. 

“I see it, but I don’t believe it,” Maria replies. 

“Command?  Come in Command?” I say into the comms as I watch the MiG fly past me.  “There are MiGs up here.” 

“We don’t see anything on the radar.  Are you sure it’s MiGs, Lieutenant Danvers?”  It’s a smug British voice.  Why would a British person be in the Command Center on a Navy carrier?  “You should give us the plane Carol.  Maria will be safe.” 

“Yon.”  I swear it sounds like a curse coming from my lips. 

“If you want Maria to keep flying you’ll give us the plane.” 

 

 

I feel someone shaking me gently, and I hear a whispered “Carol.”  This time when he says my name he is already in bed with me.  “You’re having the nightmare again.”  I open my eyes and find him leaning over me.  The sheet falls away from him and he looks very naked, and so damn attractive I want to slap him for it.  He shouldn’t be allowed to star in my bad dreams, kidnap me, and still make me want him this much.  It’s just not right. 

And this dream made me realize something.  If I give him the plane I’ll never be able to fly again.  I’m yet again glad it is me and not Maria, because she has a daughter to take care of.  I have no one.  And at this point, it’s probably for the best. 

“Will you do me a favor Yon?” I ask, as I look into his striking golden eyes. 

He gently brushes my sex and sleep matted hair away from my face, before kissing the tip of my nose.  “Anything love,” he assures me. 

I take him in, his chiseled cheekbones, his pouty bottom lip, the almost regal tip of his head.  Right now he looks relaxed, almost soft, and actually happy.  “Why don’t you just kill me now?” 

I watch as his eyes change from pleased and proud metallic to angry molten.  His top lip almost snarls, showing me his perfect white teeth.  I wanted the beast last night, and I had him.  And apparently he’s back.  “What the fuck are you saying Carol?” 

“If I give you a Navy plane, US government property, I’ll never fly again.”  His eyes squint up at me, as if he doesn’t understand what I’m saying.  “If I can’t fly my life might as well be over.” 

He shakes his head at me, and his hands move to cup the back of my head.  He’s staring right into my eyes as he says, “There is no way in hell you are seriously asking me that.” 

“I am.”  I return his gaze unfalteringly.  “I am very serious.” 

“Go back to sleep,” he orders.  But he doesn’t release my head.  He’s still looking at me, as if he can diagnose me with a gaze. 

“Not to mention the hell my life will become when I’m branded a traitor.”  I mean, that part should go without saying. 

“You’re fucking insane.  This is fucking insane.”  His arms move down to my shoulders, and he pulls me down with him until my head is lying on his chest.  One hand is rubbing my hair and my cheek, the other is wrapped around me caressing my lower back.  “When you bring us the plane you will be hailed as a hero.  We’ll both be heroes.  I’ve already been assured you can fly whatever you want for my government.”

I can’t see him from this position, but I hear his heart pounding against my cheek.  What I can see is that he’s hard, and his cock is straining and twitching against his stomach, but he’s completely ignoring it.  Maybe he’s forgotten that I use sex to work through my emotions.  Maybe he thinks I need Doctor Yon more than sex god Yon. 

“I don’t want to be a hero for any other government.  You have to know I’ll only do what I have to do to keep Maria safe.” 

“We’ll be together love.  When we are in my country we’ll be able to get married, raise a family, live the rest of our lives in peace.”  He kisses the top of my head protectively. 

“You already have a wife Yon,” I remind him. 

“Minnerva is only my partner.  Our marriage is nothing more than a cover, and not legal in my country.” 

“She seemed pretty serious about your relationship yesterday.”  I can’t get the image of her with a gun out of my head.  She looked extremely territorial, and she certainly seemed prepared to fight for what she considered hers. 

“Don’t worry about her love.  She knows how I feel.”  His voice is calm, his caresses are soothing.  He’s trying to lull me back to sleep, even though he has a hard on that is practically begging me for attention.  And the pulse of muscle and blood between my legs is aching for me to give it to him.  “I’m in love with you Carol.  You should know that by now.” 

“You’re a spy, you do this for a living.  I’m being held against my will.  Is this how you express your love in your country?”  He chuckles his response, but doesn’t say anything.  “I’m sure it happens every day in England.” 

“I was born in England, but it’s not my home country.  Where my family is from bridal kidnapping is actually a common practice.  My paternal grandfather will be very pleased.”  He laughs again.  “He will like you almost as much as I do.” 

Fuck.  I had not counted on that.  He has bested me at every turn, why would I think reminding him that he kidnapped me would hurt him?  “And where is that?”

“A small but beautiful town on the Caspian Sea.  My grandfather is in the oil business.  When we return to my family I will give you anything and everything your heart desires.”  I’m stunned into silence.  He actually seems pleased with himself. 

This is not at all what I was expecting.  I know enough about geopolitics to know that I’m fucked.  I can only hope he’s Russian.  If he’s Iranian I can’t imagine my life will go as well as he promises.  But he has to be Russian with his light skin and golden eyes.  He has to be. 

“Tell me your name.”  I ask it hesitantly.  He may not want me to know this much info about him. 

His heart pounds louder, stronger, as he inhales deeply before he exhales, “Dima.”  He grabs my shoulders in his strong hands, and pulls me up his body so I can look at him.  I straddle his hips automatically, and sit back on my shins.  He gasps when he feels my wetness against his shaft.  “No one knows that Carol, except my family and my handlers.  Minnerva doesn’t even know.  I’ve never told anyone.” 

I wiggle my hips against him, enjoying the feel of his erection against my super sensitive lips.  “Dima.”  I test his name against my tongue.  I whisper it like a prayer. 

“You know I’m yours now.  You know my name.  You know all of my secrets.”  His hands lightly move up my thighs before he grabs my hips.  His shoulders and head fall back into the pillow as he rolls his hips, making sure I feel every long hard inch of him. 

Damn, I can’t believe he’s telling me he’s a Russian agent and I just climb right up on his dick.  It’s embarrassing how whipped he has me.  But it’s not like anyone has to know.  It’s just us in this small room.  Me and Dima, my Russian operative. 

“I’m fucking sore and raw from yesterday, but I want you so bad.”  His right hand follows my pubic bone until he finds my clit.  I shiver at his touch.  He smiles up at me, and his eyes roam over my naked body before stopping where our bodies meet.  “Lift up love.  Take me into your softness.” 

He holds himself at the base, and I have to sit up on my knees to take him.  My eyes roll back into my head, and I don’t even have him to the base yet.  Damn he’s fucking huge. 

“You can take it love.  I know you can,” he murmurs as his fingers go back to my clit.  “I’ve watched your beautiful pussy swallow all of my cock.”

He knows exactly how to touch me, and what to say.  His other hand travels up my body to play with a nipple.  He’s finding all my erogenous zones, getting me sopping wet.  I don’t know where or why he learned how the art of sex and dirty talk, but I do know he is very good at it.  And I’m so glad he did. 

“I’ve fantasized about you taking me, using me.  You are so much better than I imagined.”  His pupils are huge, and his expression is one of awe.  He is looking at me like he’s seeing an angel, some beautiful celestial being.

I guess I’m taking too long to get accustomed to his size, because he thrusts up to meet me, and we both hiss as he taps against my cervix.  I try to expand myself backward away from his invading sword, but he grabs me at the top of my ribcage and pulls me back.  Like last night he’s holding my weight in his big strong arms.  His thumbs are on my nipples, flicking at them with his short nails. 

I’ve never felt so much before.  I’ve never been so visually stimulated by anyone or anything.  Looking down at him underneath me is almost overwhelming in itself.  Not to mention how he touches physically every one of my damn buttons. 

It’s too much.  It’s overload!  Yet I’m still moving my hips into him.  He’s still flexing his hips and abs, showing off the muscles of his pubic V.  He shouldn’t even have those!  He’s over forty! 

But everything about him is crafted, honed, to pleasure me, to please me, to make me want and desire him. 

And it’s not fair because no matter how hard I try I can’t fight against it. 

“You’re fucking incredible love.  So good for me.  So perfect.” 

I wonder if they taught him that too.  I wonder if he says it to all his women.

I bet he says it to Minnerva. 

“I need you to focus on me love.  I need you to come because I’m so close,” he says. 

Focus on him?  All I’ve been focused on is him for weeks.  I’ve ignored getting prepared for Top Gun.  Hell I came back early from Louisiana for him!  And I got kidnapped for my trouble! 

“Carol,” he whispers.  But it’s not enough.  I might be on top of him, with him as deep as he can fucking get inside me, I’ve already slipped away. 

He won’t do what he’s done to all the other women to me.  I won’t let him.  “I won’t steal your plane.”

He uses his strong abs to pull himself up until he’s sitting.  He pulls his knees up until my back is resting on his thighs, then tucks them in until our stomachs touch.  His hands move up into my hair, keeping my eyes focused on him. 

“Say my name,” he demands as he somehow thrusts deeper into my body.  The control this man has, of me, of his body, of his mind, is fucking inhuman. 

I lick my lips before I whisper, “David.”

“That’s not my name.”  He scrapes his nails over my scalp just a tad too roughly, and I wince.  “Say my name,” he demands. 

I sigh loudly.  It’s too hard.  It’s too much.  “Dima.” 

He closes his eyes as if savoring my voice.  “When she comes in again grab her wrist.  The one that has the plate.  It will surprise her, and you’ll have a few seconds before she recovers.  Drag her arm up her back.  Snap her fucking shoulder if you have to.  Take her damn gun.  Shoot her in her thigh.  You know how to use a gun you’re a fucking seaman.  Take her keys.  Then you’re gonna get out of here.  And when you’re out don’t look back.” 

After he’s finished he rolls me over onto my back.  I couldn’t be more surprised, more stunned.  But he’s still inside me, still moving but gently this time.  And I’m still responding. 

“I’ve taught you everything you need to know to defend yourself.  Use it against her.”  His eyes consume mine.  “I am in love with you Carol.  Believe me.”  His fingers caress my neck, my jaw, my throat.  “Believe me.”  He kisses my cheek, my nose, my lips.  “You are the only one, Carol.” 

I moan softly and close my eyes.  “Dima.” 

“I love the sound of my name on your lips,” he whispers. 

He makes love to me slowly.  Not because I’m his job, or because he has to, but because he wants to.  He wants _me_.  No matter who he’s married to, or who his allegiance is to, he’s chosen me. 

“Dima,” I say, over and over, as he brings me to a place neither of us have ever been.  Trust.  Hope.  _Love._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading, commenting, kudoing, and showing me love!  
> I feedback feeds me!!!


	28. Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I won't let you down  
> I will not give you up  
> 'Cause I would really, really love to stick around  
> Oh Yeah

When I wake up I’m alone, but the memory of last night clings to my skin like his cologne clings to the sheets.  His pillow still has an indention from where he slept, and I pull it toward me and inhale deeply.  He was here, his scent tells me.  The soreness between my legs reminds me we had sex, but he also made love to me like no one ever has, passionately and emotionally.  Being with Yon – Dima I think with a smile – would never ever be boring.  He proved that last night, and…

Another thought enters my mind, one that I hadn’t thought of until this second.  If I go through with Dima’s plan to escape I will never see him again.  They won’t allow a failed operative to hang out in a place where his cover was blown. 

They might even dispose of him for failing the mission.  Or they might send him to kill Maria and Monica. 

I would hunt him down and dispose of him myself, with my bare hands.  

No, it might be better to just give them the plane.  Then I would know that Maria and Monica would be safe.  And I would get to spend the rest of my life with Dima, on the coast of the Caspian Sea. 

I let myself daydream.  He would set up a practice in the village, not because he would have to but because it’s his passion.  Maybe I would fly for his grandfather’s oil business.  I would be gone just long enough to miss each other, and when I’d come back to him we would make the most wild passionate love either of us had ever experienced.  In a few years, when I know we’re safe and secure, I’d talk about having a baby.  Dima would be ecstatic, thrilled, and we’d immediately begin trying.  We’d have our family and grow old and happy together. 

But he’s twenty years older than me.  And statistically men die before their wives.  Could I live twenty, or maybe even forty, years alone in a strange country?  My children would grow up, and move away, and I’d be haunted by the knowledge that I’d never see Maria again. 

It would be a beautiful fantasy, but it’s just that.  A fantasy.  Everything about it is designed around him.  He would have the power and glory, and I would be merely _his_.  His wife.  The mother of his children. 

I pull his pillow closer, and take another deep breath.  He smells like heaven and sin, like home and the unknown, like victory and defeat.  And I want all of it. 

As I’m thinking about it, actually contemplating becoming a traitor to my country, I hear the locks click.  I immediately sit up, realizing that I am naked.  For this to work I should be dressed and ready for her.  Fuck!

That’s when I realize I’m wearing his button down, and a pair of underwear.  Did he dress me after I passed out?  I don’t have time to think about it.  I slide into the chair just before the door opens.  I hold my breath when I see it’s Minnerva. 

I have to be ready.  I have to focus.  I can’t think about what could be.  I have to think about the plan.  His plan. 

She looks at me with a snarl, showing a row of pearly white teeth.  “I see you spent time with my husband last night,” she growls. 

I shrug.  I can’t say anything and give away what I’m thinking, because I always say too much.  _Always_. 

“Well it will be your last.  We’ve decided on the plan, and it’s happening tonight.  There is a facility near here that holds an experimental plane.  We’re going to take it, and you’re going to fly us out.” 

“That’s the plan,” I say with a nod. 

“At least there’s one good thing about my husband fucking everything that walks, he knows how to tame a wild animal,” she says with a smirk. 

I bite my bottom lip so that I don’t inform her that it’s her husband that’s the wild animal.  She probably doesn’t know that.  She’s probably never looked below Dima’s surface.  She probably thinks he’s only the person he lets everyone see, the controlled militant, the buttoned down psychiatrist, the handsome seductive operative.  She probably doesn’t understand the fiery passionate creature he’s buried deep within himself.  She’s probably never seen it, has no idea it exists.  She doesn’t even know his real name.  But I do. 

She must take my look of confusion for humiliation or embarrassment.  She grins as if she’s accomplished what she set out to do, and walks toward the shelf with a plate of toast and a banana.  I wait until she’s leaning to sit it down and I strike. 

I hear his calm voice in my head, and I do everything it says.  I grab her wrist as I jump out of the chair, giving me some momentum and putting her off balance.  I pull her arm up her back, just like he showed me while we sparred.  I don’t hold back, because that’s how Dima taught me.  I hear the bone pop out of its socket, and she cries out in agony.  I reach for her gun, and only then to I realize she didn’t bring it with her today. 

I have a split second of doubt.  Until I hear his voice say, _When the plan doesn’t work you improvise_. 

I wrap my left arm around her throat, and hook it behind both our right wrists for leverage. 

“Fuck!” she screams as she tries to kick out, tries to head butt me, tries to elbow me.  But Dima’s training taught me how to avoid all of her attacks.  And sooner than I expected she stops fighting.  I’ve successfully choked her out. 

I take one moment to stare down at her, to make sure she’s not faking it.  “I’m the one who tames wild animals, bitch,” I exclaim proudly.  Then I take her keys, foolishly grab my purse and my overnight bag, and run through the door. 

I hear his voice tell me, _Lock her in_.  I’m glad he’s with me because I wouldn’t have thought of that. 

I’m in a basement, that’s obvious.  The next room is obviously a place for the captors.  It has a kitchenette, a table, and I smell freshly brewed coffee.  Damn I’d love to have a cup.  But I don’t stop moving.  To the far wall I see a computer with two monitors.  One has a news page up, and not surprisingly it’s the Russian Times.  The next monitor is split screen, showing feeds from several security cameras.  One is nothing but static.  Dima must have turned off the surveillance in my room before he joined me last night.  He is so smart. 

I run down a hallway that has several doors.  I wonder how many of them contain rooms just like mine.  I get to a set of steps with a closed door, and I sprint up them and turn the knob triumphantly.  It doesn’t open. 

Fuck! 

It takes more time than it should to find the right key on the ring.  I open it into what looks like a break room.  There’s a microwave, a small fridge, a corkboard with employment information, and a big calendar page of this month, with things written in red like _Minnerva off_ or _David out of town_.  I can’t tell if this is stranger than being held prisoner, but it’s definitely surreal.  I open the door that doesn’t say _Restroom_ and find myself in the _Clearance_ section of an antiques store.  This is all so bizarre. 

The lights aren’t on, and there’s almost no sunlight coming in through the windows, so it must be before the shop opens.  I take a deep breath, and run toward the front door.  Toward freedom, and away from Dima. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading my disastrous mess! I don't know how many fandoms I've mixed together in this one, but whenever I update I smile. Yea it's cheesy but it's fun (for me anyway)! Thanks for reading!


	29. Whatcha Gonna Do?  Whatcha Gonna Do When They Come For You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter but I had to get this one out! I couldn't wait to get N. Fury involved!

I don’t have my phone so I can’t call for an Uber.  But I did grab my suitcase, so as soon as I’m far enough away from Empire Antiques to feel safe I open it and pull on some pants and shoes.  Then I catch a bus back to the base.  It’s not like I haven’t done it before, after long drunken nights of partying.  But today security stops the bus and gets on, checking IDs.  This is definitely weird. 

I open my purse to grab mine, and realize it’s missing.  _Fuck, what have they done?_

“I could have sworn I put it in there,” I say with fake innocence. 

“Come with me,” the MA replies, obviously annoyed by my attempt to lighten the mood.  He reaches for my forearm and I quickly jerk my hand away.  I just choked out a Russian agent to escape captivity, now is not the time to be touching me against my will. 

“Take your hand off me, CPO.”  I hear my voice take a commanding tone, which I’ve only ever used with misogynistic enlisted men.  “I’m Lieutenant Danvers, and I was on leave for a week but apparently my ID was misplaced during transit.” 

“We know who you are lieutenant.  You’ve been reported as missing.”  As he talks he steps aside and sweeps his arm, indicating I should follow him.  Which I do.  I’m too stunned by what he says to refuse.  I mean I have been missing, so I can’t argue.  But how did they know so quickly?  Must be Maria.  I’m sure she couldn’t get in touch with me and went into protective mom mode. 

“Where are you taking me?” I ask as I walk behind him, in a man’s shirt and torn jeggings, with a pair of flip flops.  Yea, I’m fairly sure my outfit will be questioned. 

He’s leading me into the security building, to an office with a placard that says _N. Fury_.  He knocks and the response is a barked, “Enter!” 

The MA opens the door for me and steps aside.  I enter almost cautiously, and find a middle aged black man behind a desk, dressed in a black shirt with a shoulder holster and no tie.  And an eye patch.  He must be NCIS. 

“I’m Special Agent Fury.  And you are?” he asks as he stands up behind the desk.  Then he extends his hand to the chair behind me, suggesting I sit. 

“You already know who I am.  The CPO called it in on his shoulder mic.”  I’m not at all in the mood for men bossing me around with hand gestures.  I don’t sit. 

“Fine, Lieutenant Danvers.  Where do you think you misplaced your ID?  Do you think you left it on the Air Force plane you flew in on yesterday?  Maybe with your phone?”  He retakes his seat, and his although his expression hasn’t changed much I still see a bit of a smirk.  “We can call up the ground crew and ask them to look.” 

Oh fuck.  This guy isn’t playing around.  How in the hell am I going to lie to him?

“I must have left it on the taxi,” I say with a shrug. 

“You were on a bus,” he points out. 

“I was in a taxi yesterday?”  I’m trying to find something that might sound convincing and it’s not working at all.  “Okay, I’ll level with you Fury.”  I inhale deeply and try to craft a story that doesn’t implicate Dima.  “I was kidnapped by a Russian agent, who tried to convince me to steal a plane in order to save Maria’s life.” 

He stares at me for several moments, weighing my words.  Then he laughs out loud.  “Sure, Danvers.  _That’s_ plausible.  Or you could tell us the truth, that you and Doctor Yon spent last night in a hotel and you left your phone and ID there.  Just tell me which hotel and I’ll make sure you get it back.  Then I’ll sit here and listen while you call Lieutenant Rambeau and explain to her how you got lost in your sordid little affair with your psychiatrist who is a Naval employee, and everyone can have a good laugh.” 

“Wait a minute,” I interrupt his enjoyment at my benefit with a moment of seriousness.  I think about what he’s said for several moments.  “Why don’t you ask Doctor Yon where he was last night?” 

“Well I would but…”  He scoffs and looks away.  “He hasn’t returned to the base.” 

I shake my head slightly.  “Why don’t you go look in the basement at Empire Antiques.  You might be surprised.”  Then I get down to the heart of the matter.  “And you might want to recall Maria and her daughter to the base, since their lives were threatened.” 

He looks at me, then starts laughing again. 

“I’m not laughing Fury,” I point out, with a cocked eyebrow. 

He stands up and walks toward the door, eyeing me as he does.  “Why don’t you have a seat lieutenant?  You’re gonna be here a while.”  After he leaves the room I exhale loudly and throw myself down in the chair.  I have a feeling this is not going to go well. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading. Don't forget to kudo and comment!


	30. Confusion That Never Stops.  The Closing Walls And The Ticking Clocks.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So... I'm just going to leave this right here...

“Well lieutenant, looks like you weren’t lying,” Fury says as he returns, storming into his office like an act of nature. 

Three hours later.  I’ve been sitting in his office for three hours.  I tried the door but it was locked from the outside.  The computer was password protected.  Hell the phone wouldn’t even dial out without a code that I didn’t know.  I was at the point that I was about to break the window and scream for help. 

“I’m glad you’re still alive.  I thought I was going to have to set off the sprinkler system to get someone to come rescue me.”  He rolls his eyes and tries not to grin.  “I was starting to wonder which corner I’d have to pee in.” 

He shakes his head.  “Whatever.  Do you want to know what we found or not?” 

“I know what you found.  You found a basement with rooms that double as safe houses or holding cells.”  I make the statement with all seriousness, and a dash of sarcasm.  “You know they might have held me against my will, but at least they gave me a bathroom.” 

“We found the business, but the fire department was already there.  Did you set an antiques store on fire, lieutenant?”  His one good eye squints up when he asks it.  That’s _my_ eye thing!  I effectively hold in the gasp that immediately comes to my throat, but I feel my eyes getting wide and my lips parting.  “The fire was out, and the firefighters were already searching the basement when we got there.  They rescued three young women.” 

“Was one of them tall, gorgeous, and Asian?” I inquire. 

“I remember seeing a woman fitting that description.  She was in an ambulance getting treatment…”  I arch an eyebrow.  “And she’s the Russian agent you were talking about?”  I nod my head.  “Damn it Danvers you could have led with that!” 

“I didn’t think they’d set the building on fire!” I argue loudly. 

He picks up his phone and makes a call.  “Hill, I need you to take the Asian victim into custody.”  He pauses to listen, and his face falls.  “What do you mean she escaped?” 

I stand up, and plant my hands on his desk.  I hope he sees all of the anger and fear I’m feeling as I’m staring down at him.  “Get Maria and Monica Rambeau here now.” 

“Hill, I need you to contact Maria Rambeau in Louisiana and get her to come back to the base.  Go there and escort her back if you have to.  Call the closest NCIS office and put a pair of agents on her until she can get back here.  And do it yesterday.”  He slams the handset down before he shakes his head. 

I almost feel bad for Agent Hill. 

“Anything else you need, lieutenant?” he asks me, after he’s taken several moments to think about the bag of shit that has just landed in his lap. 

“A bathroom.  A cup of coffee with cream and sugar.  A good cup of coffee, not what’s been sitting in the communal coffee pot for the last six hours because no one wanted to dump it out and start a new pot.  And a ham and cheese sandwich.” 

“Those are some pretty easy requests to fill, lieutenant,” he says as he stands up.  “Are you sure you don’t want anything else, like the head of your captors on a silver platter?” 

“Eh, we’ll talk about that later.”  I follow him out of his office, and he points at a door marked _Women_.  I walk in, lock the door behind me, and try my hardest not to break down. 

I can’t believe they burned down the building with three women in it. 

What if it was Dima?  What if they ordered Dima to burn it down with his partner still inside? 

Where is Dima?  Fury said Yon had not returned to the base.  I guess everything in his perfectly arranged and maintained townhouse was expendable.  I guess I am too. 

He gave me the courage, the training, and the plan to escape.  But I know he won’t come back for me.  What if they kill him because I escaped? 

But I didn’t escape from him.  He made sure somehow I escaped from Minnerva. 

So maybe they won’t suspect him.  Maybe they won’t know he helped me.  Maybe they’ll let him live.  It would be comforting to know that even if we can’t be together he’s still alive somewhere out there.  And maybe, sometime in the future, I’ll see him again. 

That is, after I make sure Maria and Monica are safe somehow. 

I don’t know how long I’ve been standing with my back against the wall, thinking, when I hear a thunderous knock on the door.  Then Fury calls out, “Danvers, we still need to debrief you.” 

I hurry and do the business I told Fury I needed to do to get out of his office, then wash my hands and stare into the mirror.  Am I really looking forward to seeing a traitor?  Am I really thinking about kissing and touching the man who kidnapped me? 

No.  I have to get my head out of my ass.  He never cared about me.  He was only doing his job.  I was just another assignment, nothing more.

Or at least, that’s what I’m going to have to tell myself to make it through all of this with my sanity intact. 

I place my hand on the doorknob and decide that no matter what happens, I won’t admit Dima had anything to do with the kidnapping.  I will act like I don’t know he’s a spy, a traitor.  I won’t disagree if they show me proof, but I won’t volunteer any information.  And if he kills Maria and Monica, it will be my fault. 

I have no idea what to do. 

“Danvers!” Fury yells, and knocks again. 

“Coming,” I reply just as loud.  I open the door, and find him looking even more impatient than normal.  I straighten my shoulders, tip my chin up, and say, “Let’s get this over with.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think... Is this the end for our two lovers?


	31. It's Been A While

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For me, and for Carol and Dima lol.  
> I had a week of fun in the sun, but it's time to get back to writing. Thanks everyone for reading, and I'm sorry it's taken so long to post!

“You have to get out of this room!  It’s been almost two months and no one is coming after me.  Or you.  Minnerva is dead.  Whoever Yon really was is nowhere to be found, and they didn’t get their plane.  Everything worked out.”  Maria insists as she grabs my hand to pull me off the bed. 

Is it bad that the first thing I do is think of all the ways he taught me to counter her?  I pull on my arm, knowing I’m stronger than her, and she relents.  He _made_ me stronger. 

But thinking of him isn’t new.  All I do is think of him.  She’s right.  All I’ve done is sit in this room and mope, and think of everything we should have had together.  If he was just a psychiatrist. 

“We go to Nevada in three days Carol.  Monica is already with my parents.  We’re not putting off Top Gun until the next class.”  She looks around my room, realizing there are no clothes in the floor to pick up and throw at me.  She opens the closet and everything is hanging neatly in its place.  She gasps loudly.  “What the hell did that man do to you?”

I roll my eyes.  She’s joking.  She has to be. 

She grabs my tightest pair of jeans and my favorite black lacy top and throws them at me.  Then she orders, “Get dressed.  You have ten minutes.  The show starts in an hour and you are not making me late!  I am not missing Hugh Jackman in concert!” 

She leaves the room in a huff, but doesn’t lock the door behind her which means she’s coming back.  And it will be worse if I’m not ready when she comes back. 

So I decide right now it’s the time.  Maria is right.  I have to move forward.  I _need_ to get out of this room.  So I set Dima aside.  I put him in a box, tie it up with a gray ribbon, and set it aside.  I take off my sweats and tank top and pull on the clothes she picked out. 

I can’t sit around hoping he texts me or calls me.  He’s not coming back.  He’s gone.  Maybe he’s back in his hometown by the Caspian Sea.  I have to think that.  The alternative is just too painful. 

 

*****

 

We’re on the bus and everyone near us is staring at Maria.  She just keeps getting louder.  She’s obviously more excited than I realized about this concert.  I guess I was deluding myself into thinking she liked Guns N Roses and NIN just as much as I do. 

“What does Hugh Jackman even sing?” I finally exclaim, after fifteen minutes of endless prattle. 

A man with his nose stuck in a book three rows back looks at me over the top of the pages.  I just see the middle of his face, because he’s wearing a baseball hat over very dark hair.  And his eyes are blue behind horn rimmed glasses. 

I know it’s him.  It’s _him_. 

He lowers the book and I see his high cheekbones, perfect pink lips, and square jaw.  His expression doesn’t change.  He doesn’t give anything away.  But it is fucking him and every muscle in my body wants to run to him.  I don’t know if I want to punch him or jump him, but I need to go to him more than I need air. 

His gaze lingers on my face, taking me in.  I shiver with the heat and weight of his stare.  And the desire to touch him, to taste him.  Holding myself in this seat may be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.  Just when I’d decided to go out, he’s here.  I wonder if he’s back in town for another assignment.  Or maybe he’s been riding the bus for days hoping I’d get on. 

Maria keeps talking, listing songs and movies, not noticing who I’m focused on.  He grins, as if understanding my irritation.  “Carol, this is…”  Just as she says my name I tear my eyes away from Dima, and I’m smiling when she finishes, “our stop.” 

“Good, let’s go.  I can’t wait to hear _Les Miserables_.”  I glance back at Dima, but his nose is in the book again. 

“The song is _Who Am I_ ,” she corrects me as we wait to exit. 

“Isn’t he Wolverine?” I mumble as I stand behind her.  Just as I’m stepping down onto the steps I feel a hand brush against my forearm.  I sigh with the depth of emotion that slight touch causes inside me.  I don’t need to look at him to know it’s him.  He’s wearing the same expensive, manly cologne.  Even if he wasn’t I’d still know. 

Dima.  His name echoes through my head. 

We stand in line to go inside, and although he’s not behind me I feel him near me.  As we find our seats I feel his presence.  And after we’re seated, near the stage because Maria doesn’t do anything half-ass I ask, “Hey are you thirsty?  I’m gonna get a beer.”

“I’ll come with you,” she offers. 

But I shake my head.  “You stay.  I don’t want you to miss any of the experience.”  I say it with my eyes squinted up and a slight smile. 

“Don’t you mock me!  You can buy my beer just for that,” she replies with a laugh. 

I exit the floor area, then head away from the beer concession.  I don’t take four steps before I smell him.  And I feel his hand on my forearm again.  But this time it slides down, and he weaves our fingers together. 

I fight a brilliant smile, trying to look like any other couple walking together.  I look up at him out of the corner of my eye, and he nods.  His hand gives mine a good squeeze. 

“God I’ve missed you,” I admit, loud enough for only him to hear. 

He leans down to kiss the top of my head.  “I’ve missed you too love,” he whispers. 

_This feels right._

“Where are we going?” I ask as I look around.  We’re in an area maybe behind the stage.  There are less people, and I see no one standing in line for a family bathroom.  He points at it.  I nod.  The next thing I know we’re inside and he locks the door. 

“Dima,” I mutter as I shove him against it.  He smiles, right before I lean up on my tiptoes to kiss him.  Suddenly everything feels right in the world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone enjoyed my update! If you did please let me know! Leave me a kudo or a quick note.


	32. I Can't See Me Loving Nobody But You For All My Life!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is this the end, or just the beginning?

 

 

I kiss him like I could devour him.  Like I’ve wanted to kiss him every day for two months.  He kisses me back.  It’s a rougher, deeper, almost desperate kiss that takes my breath.  He angles his hips just right, and I feel his hard cock along the seam of my jeans.  Why can’t I be one of those girls who enjoys wearing short skirts?  Having sex in a public bathroom would be so much easier that way. 

He is the first to pull away from the kiss, taking a deep breath before pushing my hair out of the way and diving in for my neck.  “I’ve waited and watched every damn day, but you wouldn’t poke your head out.  Have you been moping?”  While he’s asking his hands rediscover me, caressing down my back before grabbing an ass cheek in each hand to pull me flush with his hips. 

“No!” I exclaim, and he immediately stops.  I giggle against his throat before I take a quick nip.  “I haven’t been moping,” I lie, as I kiss the places I playfully bit. 

He growls deep in his chest as he easily lifts me off the ground.  I immediately wrap my legs around his waist.  “You have no idea how bad I want you right now.” 

My voice is tinged with just as much longing as his when I reply, “I think I know.” 

“Once you’re at Top Gun it will be easier for us to meet up.  They’re watching every fucking move you make right now.”  He thrusts his hips upward, dry humping me as he talks with his fucking phone sex voice and that killer accent. 

I am this close to ripping his clothes off and begging him to fuck me in the bathroom.  He makes me feel like a teenager, like a reckless carefree girl with nothing to lose.  “Can I suck your cock?” I ask as I lick the strip of skin from his jaw toward his ear. 

He grunts and leaves a gentle bite on my shoulder, not quite hard enough to leave a mark.  “I would love nothing more, but we can’t.  You have to go out there and act like nothing has changed.  They can’t know we’ve seen each other or they will find a way to destroy your career.”  He’s nuzzling against my neck too, finding spots I didn’t know were so fucking sensitive.  Or maybe my entire body feelings like a live wire because I’m actually with him again.  Dima. 

I stop kissing him so suddenly that he pulls away to stare down at me.  We’re so close when he blinks I can see a slight shift in the blue contacts.  I’m so glad that this is the fake color and not the gold.  That would be hugely disappointing. 

“Wait, what?” I demand, after my brain has a moment to process what he said. 

“Special Agent Fury is covering for you, but those over his head in the chain of command are just looking for a reason to get rid of one of their female pilots.  And you colluding with the enemy would be all the reason they need.”  His voice is a little calmer, the buttoned down psychiatrist has obviously taken control momentarily. 

“How do you…”  I begin the thought, but his wicked grin stops me.  “Never mind, I don’t want to know.” 

He chuckles.  “Don’t worry love.  We’ll get to spend more than a few nights together in Las Vegas.  I already have it planned.”  Then he gives me one more kiss before letting me slide down his body. 

My feet land on the ground gently, and I smile.  I always love a good landing. 

“I will see you again, Lieutenant Danvers,” he assures me, before he pulls me into his body for a hug.  He kisses the top of my head, and rubs the back of my head.  “After all you did steal my heart.  I can’t live without it.” 

I can’t stop the “Awwwww” that escapes my lips.  It’s so corny but sweet.  “I love you Dima,” I reassure him.  Then I realize I have a million questions for him.  “How are you still in Cali?  How did they not call you back to wherever you’re from?  Who killed Minnerva?” I rattle off the questions quickly and disjointedly. 

He smiles and shakes his head.  “When we’re together again we’ll talk all about what happened.  Then we’ll begin to plan the future.” 

“Future?” I ask as he releases me from his embrace to hold me at arm’s length.  He just studies me for several moments, taking me in.  The thought crosses my mind that he’s remembering me, just in case things don’t go the way he plans. 

“I’ll have to get a new identity, find a way to stay in the states.  If you want to continue seeing me.”  He is very intelligent after all, he would have a plan.  Maybe this is the spy part of him coming out.  I have to admit I like it. 

“Of course I want to see you,” I tell him.  “I just asked to suck your cock in a public bathroom.”

“And I can’t believe I turned you down,” he groans.  “Now you go first, love.  I’ll sneak out after they follow you.” 

I sigh, and nod my head.  I don’t want to leave but he’s right.  If I am being followed we have to be very careful.  I give him one more kiss, no tongue but all passion.  I can feel he’s holding back too. 

“I love you Carol,” he says as I reach around him to open the door.  “Remember that.  I love you.” 

I nod and look both directions before I exit.  I don’t see anyone that looks suspicious, but I trust him.  I walk slowly toward the beer stand, without looking back. 

I hear a buzzing and feel a vibration against my left ass cheek, and I reach back to find a phone in my pocket.  Not _my_ phone, a phone. 

There’s a new text.  Three words. **I love you.**

I don’t have to wonder who sent it.  And I don’t have to wonder how it got there. 

I’m proud of myself that I don’t look over my shoulder.  I order our beers and carry them back to join Maria.  The concert hasn’t started yet, but she is looking around when I finally return.  I fight a smile so hard I bite my lip.  And she only has to glance at me twice to know something is up. 

All she has to do is see the look on my face, and somehow she knows.  Her eyes get wide for a split second, then they squint up.  I wonder if I got that from her or if she got it from me. 

“Oh my God Carol here?”  She doesn’t even have to ask what happened.  Somehow she already knows.

I nod my head in response, and take a sip of my beer. 

She looks away, and thinks for a second.  “Okay,” she says and takes a drink. 

If this is really happening, I can only think of two people I’d like to share it with.  And I have both of them.  I know it will work out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for joining me on this crazy journey. I hope you guys enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy. Don't forget to leave a comment if you like it!


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